Full text of "Classic memoirs"

See other formats

tuJ'1

LIBRARY

GIVEN BY

THOMAS WRIGHT

1932

FOR Reserve use only

^^^

THE WORLD'S
GREAT CLASSICS

UX»-IJ.I.I-l'.>JJIJJIJ-UJ.I.»X>JJJH.».>J->-FJ.JJJ.IJJJJ.I.

a_< ■ a-j 1 V y X I

COMMITTEE

JvsTiN McCarthy
Richard H£N!>v5tod[;ard

ARTHVli RiaiMOMD Massii. AB.

Pavl VAN Dyke. D.D.
Albert Ellery Bergh

(s^

m
%

•iLLV6TRATED WITHNEARLYTHREE-
HYNDREDPHOTOCRAVVIiES • ETCH-
INGS COLOREDPLATE5ANDFVLL- p.^

•PAGE- PORTRAITS OF GREAT- AVTH0R5 • ^'^^

Clarence Cook • Art Editor

THE- COLONIAL- PRE55

^ NEW-YORK-.^ -LONDON

(^Cf:^c<^(msM^(c'i^f(^cc^(c^(^^mrn^^rfi^^

iiEaUUaiUi^IaMk.1.

CHOICE EXAMPLES OF BOOK ILLUMINATION.

Fac-similes from Illuminated Manuscripts and Illustrated Books

of Early Date.

FOUR SAINTED QUEENS OF THE BOURBON

LINE.

From tin Condc Livre iV Hemes, 'written in Franee about i^go.

This is a companion illumination to the miniature of the Annunciation given in
another volume. It is a fitting picture for the prayer-book from which it is taken,
since the latter was apparently executed for a member of the royal family. The
manuscript derives its name from the fact that it belonged between 1650 and 1700
to a son of the great Conde. The four royal ladies are apparently uttering in
unison the well-known words of the prayer-book :

" O Lord, open Thou my lips, and my mouth shall show forth Thy praise."

IXXX>(XXXXXaXXXX«XXX«)OtXX30UJOCXXAXXXXXXXXC«XXXJCX^^

noOCDCXXXXXXXXXKXXnX

CLASSIC MEMOIRS

PHILIPPE DE COMMINES ; MARGUERITE DE VALOIS ;

DUC DE SULLY; CARDINAL DE RICHELIEU;

CARDINAL.de RETZ; MADAME DE MONTESPAN ;

DUC DE SAINT-SIMON; MADAME CAMPAN;

MADAME ROLAND; PRINCE DE TALLEYRAND:

MADAME DE REMUSAT ; MADAME JUNOT

WITH A SPECIAL INTRODUCTION BY

GEORGE SAINTSBURY

PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC AND ENGLISH LITERATURE,
UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH

REVISED EDITION

THE

T^i .)X ( >)X COX (MJ^t..J^.J^

5^0

SPECIAL INTRODUCTION

THERE has been some debate, and perhaps there might,
not without advantage, have been more on the question
9 whether in certain departments of Hterature they do

C really " order these things so much better in France " than in

. England. In criticism, and in other kinds of miscellaneous

[JJ writing, much stronger fight can be made for English than

[j--— most Englishmen seem to think. In the peculiar kind of the
diary we are alone ; a certain Clerk of the Acts of the Navy
^ has distanced, and probably always will distance, all competi-

^ tors. Even in letters the match is not quite hopeless on our

o) side.

1:+^ But in the memoir it is different. The most patriotic

Englishman, the most courageous, the best informed, the wari-
est, the cunningest of fence, can never hope to dispute French
superiority here. And though inquiring into the causes of lit-
erary phenomena is, as a rule, a much more difficult, a much
more delicate, above all a much more dangerous business than
the quiet appreciation of them, and perhaps not quite so sensi-
ble, it is sometimes interesting and can be safely indulged in
here.

The memoir is not a very early kind of literature ; we have
hardly any — none of the properest kind — from antiquity,
though the " Memorabilia " in Greek and the " Agricola " in
Latin are, as it were, " tries " at the thing. Xenophon, indeed,
must, from indications in every one of his works, have had al-
most perfect gifts for the kind, had it existed ; and if he had
been inspired to write his own memoirs they would not only
be worth all his present work put together, good as it is ; they
would not only have made Greek history more intelligible than
all the labors of scholars have made it^ but it is not rash to say
that they would have been one of the most delightful books

111

iv SPECIAL INTRODUCTION

in the world. On the other hand, Herodotus would probably
have been much too discursive, and Thucydides too severely
and disdainfully reticent to make a perfect memoir-writer.

Among the Latins, Tacitus, as he has partly shown in the
instance given, might have been a great memoir-writer, inclin-
ing to the Carlylian; but Pliny must have been a great one,
though of another kind.

Whether the French had this gift from ethnological causes,
from the mixture of Celtic and Latin blood, is a question which
may be left for discussion by those who are less profanely scep-
tical on such points than the present writer. But they certainly
seem to have had it from the very first. Pliny's own " Letters "
are not quite as near to memoirs of the very first class as are
those of Sidonius Apollinaris in the fifth century before the
Franks were dominant anywhere except in the extreme North.
And when " France " and " French " proper emerge, the gift
is most certainly not any the worse for waiting exercise. Al-
though the " Conquete de Constantinople " is rather what may
be called a personal chronicle than a memoir, the memoir quality
of Villehardouin is unmistakable; while that of Joinville may
almost be said never to have been mistaken. Chance or choice
led the third great mediaeval writer, who succeeds these two in
France, to adopt a form ostensibly further from the memoir
than Joinville's, and almost than Villehardouin's ; yet it need
hardly be said that much of Froissart is pure memoir, memoir
in quintessence. And with the other name which follows these
in as natural sequence, we arrive at the thing complete, named
and classed, and come to its own. Commines is a little ham-
pered by the unreadiness of the language on the one hand and
by fifteenth-century pedantry on the other: but his genius and
the sympathy between form and artist get the better of both
drawbacks. The memoir-quality (of which more anon) ap-
pears in passages of his like those to be given in this book as
it had never appeared before; as it was constantly to appear
after. For three centuries, at least (whether it failed in the
nineteenth or not there is no need to discuss here), there was
never lacking somebody, there were usually living not a few,
who had " got the seed " of this fashion of composition, and
so could " raise the flower." Let us consider very briefly, but

SPECIAL INTRODUCTION v

as fully as space will allow us to do, what the notes and marks
of seed and flower are.

The memoir proper may, in the first place, be distinguished,
probably without fear of controversy, from the history, as be-
ing essentially what has been called above a personal chronicle
— a chronicle not mainly of things read, though these may come
in to some extent, but of things seen, heard, experienced, and
recounted from the point of view of the writer himself. But
it is further necessary — and here there should not be much
more disagreement, but may be some — that something beside
the personal element should come in. The record of a purely
private existence cannot properly be called "memoirs": there
must be some contact with public life, with actual history in the
common sense — and the more the better. If this is lacking, the
thing may be an autobiography and one of great interest and
value; but it is not memoirs. The public matters carry off
and justify the private just as the private qualify and differenti-
ate the public. Both must exist. Cellini's " Life " and De-
foe's " Memoirs of a Cavalier," though the matter of the former
is mostly private and not improbably in part fictitious, while
it is at least possible that the latter is fiction from beginning
to end, are in form memoirs irreproachable and of the purest
kind. Rousseau's " Confessions " and Amiel's " Journal " are
not.

I think further (though here I admit that the matter does
become controversial) that memoirs, to have the right " race"
and flavor, must be deliberately written to be read — with a
view to the public eye as well as in reference to at least partly
public subjects. The diary, unless it is an absolute soliloquy,
loses all genuine quality: if it is written for anybody else (even
one body) it becomes a letter in batches. Whether the let-
ter can ever be written in perfection for more than one pair, or
a very small circle, of priviliged eyes is a well-known point
of dispute. But it seems to me that the memoir must be com-
posed as a book — with a view to at least ultimate publication —
with an intention that, just as public and private affairs have
joined to provide its substance, so the public shall be the recipi-
ent of the writer's private views and experiences. For this pur-
pose a very peculiar mode of presentation is required — neither

t~-

vi SPECIAL INTRODUCTION

bare narration, nor bare discussion, nor even both combined,
but a skilful blending of both with additional elements and
seasonings. It is no new observation, I suppose, that the per-
fect memoir is simply a " true " equivalent of the perfect his-
torical novel ; and it would not be surprising if the literary
historians of the future associated the decadence of the memoir
with the rise of the novel. Certainly such a writer as Scott or
Dumas pursues exactly the course of the best memoir-writers :
only he blends with the assured and public material, not his
own experiences, not his own thoughts, even to any great extent
as such, but the experiences and thoughts of imagined person-
ages. If this be so, it will be further obvious that a peculiar
difficulty besets the memoir-writer, from which his novelist-
brother is free. Le moi est haissablc: yet it is the essence of the
memoir that it shall be brought in. How to bring it in, and
how much of it, and so on — here is the rub of memoir-writing.

Now we may go back and see whether these results (given,
of course, not as demonstration, but as opinion) will throw
any light on that superiority of French memoir-writing with
which we began. To say that the French are more egotistical
than other people, and especially than the English, would be
not so much illiberal as absurd. There is probably little differ-
ence between the egotism of individuals, though it takes differ-
ent forms ; there certainly cannot be much between the egotism
of nations. But the nation, like the individual, generally wears
its egotism with a difference, and with a difference which is
necessarily more emphatic and more visible at a distance than
in the individual case. In the memoir it will be seen at once
that what is wanted is the faculty of being egotistical without
being offensive — of knowing how to present yourself to the
public so that this self shall be a not disagreeable spectacle ; in
short, of seeing yourself, not merely as others will see you,
but as others will probably care to see you.

Now I will carry the banner of my patron saint with any-
body and against anybody at all times and in all places where
decency permits ; but I cannot pretend to think that this con-
noisseurship in self-presentation is anything but a very rare gift
with Englishmen, while to some extents and in certain ways
the French are to the manner born. Very often — perhaps in.

SPECIAL INTRODUCTION vii

the majority of cases — an Englishman does not think of what
other people are thinking about him at all ; too frequently he
does not care; and a certain density, which not infrequently
attends the strength of his intellectual constitution, sometimes
makes it difficult for him to know, even if he does care. The
result is that he too often passes (if he passes at all) from in- ^
difference into uneasy self-consciousness or offensive self-asser-
tion. Frenchmen, and still more Frenchwomen, on the other

hand, are always thinking of what other people think of them ; y

they are extremely determined to be well thought of, and have at
least considerable skill in presenting themselves to advantage.
They are, or at any rate were, when at their best, notoriously
free alike from niaiwaise honte, from proneness to be bores, and
from proneness to hetise: while, though it is certainly as possi-
ble for a Frenchman to be impudent as for an Englishman to be
insolent, there is, to say the least, no greater tendency in the
former to reach his particular stage of corruption. Now if a
writer has plenty of experience to go upon (that must be granted
ex hypothcsi in all cases) ; if he is not too shy to give the personal ^^

touch freely ; if he is governed in giving it by constant attention 7~
to the dangers of boring or making a fool of himself, or offend-
ing by too much egotism ; and if, finally, he or she has at com-
mand a language of the extraordinary literary aptitudes of
French prose for at least 250 years before the Revolution, then
it will go very hard, indeed ; but he or she will give us good,
and in happy cases the very best memoirs.

That is what Frenchmen and Frenchwomen did for the world
during at least a quarter of a millennium : and most profoundly
grateful the world ought to be to them. If anybody told me
that he was going to start a library for pleasure, and asked me
to specify books, I really do not know that I should put any in
the list before the great collections of Michaud and Poujoulat
for the earlier period, and of Barriere for the later, though the
volumes of the first are certainly rather heavy to hold. And
I must confess that I rather envy the compiler of the volume
to which I have been asked to write this introduction, for hav-
ing had a legitimate excuse, in his search for suitable, or, rather,
for the most suitable passages, to read again Commines and
Marguerite, Retz and Richelieu, the stately solemnity of Sully,

viii SPECIAL INTRODUCTION

the tempestuous panorama or phantasmagoria of Saint-Simon,
the horrors and alarms of the Revolution memoirs, the mingled
glories and sordidnesses, adventures and intrigues of those of
the empire. Such a provision of human interest there is to
be found nowhere else in volume ; only the very greatest poems
and plays and novels excel it in intensity ; and perhaps only in
these very greatest examples of purely imaginative literature
is there to be found greater artistic pleasure from the handling
of the subjects provided.

Cou^

GEORGE SAINTSBURY.

(Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature at the
University of Edinburgh.)

Photogravure from a recent photograph.

PREFACE

IN the region of literature there is not a more fascinating
field than that of memoir. It is not only valuable from
the purely historical standpoint, but it introduces that
personal element which is necessarily absent in the broad treat-
ment of epochs by the historian. The sincerity which so
often is absent from the public utterances of great men and
women appears again in the sentences penned in the privacy
of the study or boudoir. The thoughts, the likes, the dislikes,
concealed for the sake of policy from the world, make their
appearance in the memoir, and cast upon the public records
side-lights that reveal unsuspected motives and unknown pur-
poses.

Among nations, the French, perhaps, are facile princeps in
this field. The vivacity, the epigrammatic power of their
language, and their innate powers of observation and expres-
sion enable them to depict, in a fashion perhaps more vivid
than is possible to anyone else, the vie intimc of courts, or the
cabals and intrigues of statesmen. Commines' memoirs excel
in this respect, and yet, perhaps, their most characteristic
features are their childlike sincerity and unconsciousness.
The knell of medisevalism had already sounded in his day, yet
Commines describes events, characters, and conditions as if
the sway of feudality and its customs were to continue for
centuries. His tone throughout is in the key of that dialogue
between Solon and Croesus, in which the philosopher assures
the king that to be rich does not necessarily mean to be
happy, and he describes the fall of the great Burgundian
power before the valor of the Swiss freemen and the machina-
tions of Louis XI in the manner in which Homer notes and
laments our common mortality.

That Solon's dictum concerning wealth and happiness had
the axiomatic quality of a truism was experienced by

X PREFACE

Marguerite de Valois as well as by Commines. Between her
brother, the French King, and her husband, the warlike King
of Navarre, the tact and affections of the brilliant and witty
princess were tried to the uttermost, and as she describes the
turbulent times that prevailed at the French Court during her
enforced sojourn there, detained from joining her husband as
a pledge of peace, one detects a note of pathos running through
the vivacity of her narrative.

The value of Sully's memoirs is such that no man, till he has
perused them, can form a just conception of the great Henri
Quatre. Sully was not only Henry's minister, but Henry's
confidant and friend, and he brings before us the great
Huguenot in his good and evil fortunes, as a king, a warrior,
or a politician, as a husband, father, or friend, in so intimate
and affecting a manner as to enhance to the utmost the value
of these side-lights on the reign of Henri IV.

Of Richelieu it may be said that in his memoirs he reveals
himself perhaps more disadvantageously than any other
writer. Even as he tells us of the military proceedings at the
memorable siege of La Rochelle, and proceeds onward to trace
the thread of intrigue that led to the great Cabal, while admit-
ting and admiring his patriotism and astuteness as a states-
man, we are impressed by the fact that he was the most un-
scrupulous of all the many promoters of French national
greatness.

Another of the great cardinal-statesmen of France, De Retz,
the father and supporter of the Fronde, is a witness to the fact
that in the memoir, as nowhere else, we find the man. As we
read of the eclipse of Mazarin, his great rival, the insight of
De Retz into character and human nature, his power to
paint men in their true colors, his naive confessions of self-
flattery and personal weakness evoke our sympathy and com-
pel our admiration.

The varied nature of St. Simon's memoirs is not surprising
when one realizes the history of the man. The vicissitudes
of court life under Louis XIV were never better described
than by Sully. First high in favor at court, then debased by
the intrigues of his enemies, he found himself compelled by cir-
cumstances to keep his fingers on the social as well as on the
political pulse of the time, and to keep his ears open to record

PREFACE

the love affairs, the scandals, the marriages, the comedies in
one direction, the tragedies in another, of the intimate side
of court life, as well as to chronicle the greater themes involved
in political intrigue.

Historians, on the whole, have dealt rather hardly with
Madame de Montespan, taking, perhaps, their impressions
from the judgment, often narrow and malicious, of her con-
temporaries. Her own memoirs give us a fairer estimate,
though they were avowedly compiled in a desultory way.
The cynical court lady, whose beauty fascinated the great King,
is here sketched for us in vivid fashion by her own hand, for
while she depicts others, she really draws her own portrait.
It was no ordinary woman that won the grand monarqiie, and
if we look closely into her records of those subtle times we
perceive, as in a glass darkly, the contour of a most attractive,
sympathetic, if perplexing, personality.

Ill-fated Marie Antoinette found in Madame Campan, the
first head of the College of St. Cyr, and the Queen's devoted
confidante, a most loyal biographer. Written from the point
of view of a royalist, the memoirs left by Madame Campan
afford a pathetic insight into the agonies of the royal pair
in the period immediately preceding their arrest and execu-
tion. These recollections seem to enforce and lament the fact
that in some cases, with the utmost of abnegation and desire
to do right, repentance may come too late.

From the depths of the Prison of St. Pelagic Madame Ro-
land wrote her autobiography and the recollections of her life.
It was characteristic of the blind fury of the Revolution that it
involved in its fatal coils such characters as the guileless,
pious, and learned Roland, to whom, if for nothing more, we
are indebted for an apostrophe on the scaffold that will live
while literature endures.

The appearance of Talleyrand's memoirs was long awaited
with curiosity and alarm. He was believed to possess more
dangerous secrets of high importance than any other man of
his time ; and whether or not he had friends to reward, it was
known that he had enemies to punish. When it was found
that he had forbidden the publication of his manuscripts until
thirty years after his death^ the belief in their compromising
character was confirmed; and when after the required time

xii PREFACE

had elapsed, they were still withheld, people beean to look upon
them as a sort of historical dynamite, to be exploded only after
everybody in danger had been removed from its field of ac-
tivity. Among their most startling revelations was Talley-
rand's expose of Napoleon. The memoirs scarcely touch a
critical point in the Emperor's career without dealing him a
stab. Everywhere they paint him as heartless, vain, vulgar,
wanton in attack, ungenerous and pitiless to the defeated, un-
truthful, proud of his ability to deceive, and wholly without
principle and without gratitude. And they do this, not by
ascribing these qualities to him, but by carefully narrating the
incidents that exhibit them.

Of Madame de Remusat, it may be said that her memoirs
are a record in detail of the daily life of the author, as well as
an intimate picture of life at the court of Bonaparte in the
early years of the nineteenth century. They show us what
changes the establishment of the empire effected at the court,
and how Hfe there and its relations became more difficult and
embarrassing. They show, too, how the prestige of the Em-
peror declined in proportion as he misused his great gifts and
his chances. And they show that, while fascinated by the
genius of Napoleon, the writer was neither blind to his faults
nor narrow in her judgment of him.

Madame Junot declares that the writer of memoirs should
give reahty to the scenes depicted, and she, therefore, invokes
detail to assist her. The naive confession that she could not
afford to leave out the catalogue of her corbcille and trousseau
on the occasion of her marriage to General Junot awakes the
note of human sympathy, and we follow with increased inter-
est her simple narrative of the days when Bonaparte was
secretly planning his way to absolute power.

In French memoirs may be traced the social life as well as
the political development of the land, and in the series here
given will be found the most attractive and instructive pens
among her brilliant galaxy of writers.

CONTENTS

PACK

Philippe de Commines i

The Fall of Burgundy 3

Marguerite de Valois 40

Turbulent Times at Court 42

Due DE Sully 59

Sidelights on the Reign of Henry IV 61

Cardinal de Richelieu 105

Rochelle and the Great Cabal 107

Cardinal de Retz 133

The Eclipse of Mazarin 135

Madame de Montespan 181

The Triumph of Madame de Maintenon 183

Due DE Saint-Simon 203

Court Life under Louis XIV 205

Madame de Campan 255

Memoirs of Marie Antoinette 257

Madame Roland 277

An Autobiographical Sketch 279

Prince de Talleyrand 301

From Consul to Emperor 303

Madame de Remusat 349

Life at the Court of Bonaparte 351

Madame Junot 401

Paris during the Consulate 403

xiii

ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING PAGE

Four Sainted Queens of the Bourbon Line Frontispiece

Fac-simile illumination of the Fifteenth Century

George Saintsbury viii

Photogravure from a recent photograph

Jeunesse .......... 58

Photogravure from the original painting by Raphael Collin

Louis the Fourteenth ....... 202

Photogravure from the original painting by C. Le Febure

A Page from the History of Livy .... 300
Fac-simile manuscript of the Sixth Century

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY

^i^iltppt tic Commine^

PHILIPPE DE COMMINES

1445— 1509

Philippe de Commines (or Comyne), Sieur d'Argenton, a French
statesman, and the author of very interesting and valuable memoirs,
was born at the castle of Commines, not far from Lille, in 1445. After
receiving a careful education, he passed into the court of Burgundy about
1466, and attached himself particularly to Charles the Bold (then Comte
de Charolais). In 1472, Commines, who was anything but punctilious
in his notions of honor, entered the service of Louis XI, the rival and
enemy of Charles, who immediately covered him with honors, and made
him one of his most contidential advisers. He proved himself a very
suitable agent for carrying out the designs of the crafty monarch ; but
after the death of Louis, by his adherence to the party of the Duke of
Orleans, Commines incurred the displeasure of the government of Anne
of Beaujeu, and was sentenced to a forfeiture of a fourth of his estates
and to ten years' banishment. This punishment, however, does not
seem to have been carried out, for after a few years we find Commines
again employed in important affairs of diplomacy. Though engaged in
the service of Charles VIII, and the Duke of Orleans, afterward Louis
XII, Commines failed to win the confidence of these masters. He died at
his castle of Argenton, October 17, 1509.

Commines's " Memoirs " are admirably written, and afford abundant
proof that he possessed a clear, acute, and vigorous mind. He seems to
have looked keenly into the heart of every man who crossed him in life,
and with cool, severe anatomy, dissects him for the benefit of posterity.
He is the first modern writer who in any degree has displayed sagacity
in reasoning on the characters of men and the consequences of their
actions, or who has been able to generalize his observations by compari-
son and reflection. This ability to discuss motives as well as events
renders him far superior to Froissart, who, on the other hand, greatly
exceeds hini in picturesqueness of style and fertility of invention. Frois-
sart described notable occurrences ; Commines delineated great men.
The one contemplated the strife of kings and kingdoms as a spectator
of the Isthmian games may have gazed at that heart-stirring spectacle.
The other watched the schemes of statesmen and the conflict of nations
with some approach to that judicial serenity which we ascribe to a mem-
ber of the Amphictyonic Council. If Froissart may be termed the Livy
of France, Commines is entitled to rank as the French Tacitus.

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY

AFTER the Duke of Burgundy had conquered all Lor-
raine, and received of the King St. Quentin, Ham, and
Bohain, with all the constable's goods which could be
found, he agreed to meet the King at Auxerre. The King and
he were to have an interview upon a river, with a bridge built
over it after the same manner as that at Picquigny for King
Louis and the King of England ; and several messengers passed
and repassed continually about this afifair. And the Duke of
Burgundy resolved to put the greatest part of his army, that
had been much fatigued and harassed in the siege of Nuz and
their expedition into Lorraine, into quarters of refreshment,
and to canton the rest in such towns as belonged to the Count
of Romont and others near to Berne and Friburg ; upon which
towns he had resolved to make war for their insolent behavior
during the siege of Nuz, for their having assisted the enemy
in taking from him the county of Ferrette, and for their usurpa-
tion of some part of the Count of Romont's territories. The
King was extremely desirous of this interview, and earnestly
entreated the duke to let his army lie still in their quarters
of refreshment, and not to attempt anything against the poor
Svv^iss. Upon the approach of this army, the Swiss sent am-
bassadors to the duke, and offered to restore whatever they
had taken from the Count of Romont. On the other hand,
the Count of Romont pressed him to come in person to his
assistance ; and, contrary to sober counsel and what all declared
would be the best, considering the season and the shattered
state of his army, the duke resolved to march against them
himself; it being agreed between the King and him, under
both their hands, that as to the affair of Lorraine, there should
be no dispute between them.

With this shattered and fatigued army the duke marched

4 COMMINES

out of Lorraine into Burgundy, where the ambassadors of the
old German leagues, called Swiss, came to him, and offered,
beside the restitution before mentioned, to abandon all alliances
that were contrary to his interest (and particularly that with
the King of France), to enter into alliance with him, and (for
a small sum of money) to serve him against the King with
6,000 men, whenever he should require their assistance. But
the duke would hearken to no overtures, for his ruin was de-
creed. The new allies (as they term them in those parts),
namely, Basle, Strasburg, and other imperial towns situated
near the head of the Rhine, had heretofore joined, with Sigis-
mund, Duke of Austria, at the time when he was at war with
the Swiss ; but now a confederacy was made between them
and the Swiss for ten years, at the solicitation and expense of
the King of France, at the time that the county of Ferrette
was taken from the Duke of Burgundy, and his governor
Pierre d'Archambault (who was the cause of all his misfor-
tunes afterward) put to death at Basle. A prince ought nar-
rowly to observe and watch the conduct of those persons he
appoints as governors over his new conquests ; for, instead
of easing his subjects, administering justice, and treating them
with more gentleness than before, this Archambault proceeded
quite otherwise and oppressed them with all manner of violence
and extortion, and was the occasion of great mischief both
to himself, his prince, and abundance of brave men beside.
This alliance (which, as I said before, was to be ascribed wholly
to the King's management) proved afterward very advantage-
ous to his Majesty's interest, and more so than most people
were able to foresee, for I esteem it as one of the wisest and
most important actions of his reign, and the most prejudicial
to his enemies ; for if the Duke of Burgundy's affairs were once
in a low condition, there would be none left to cope with the
King, or oppose him in any of his designs — I mean of his
subjects, and in his own kingdom, for all the rest sailed under
his wind. For this reason, it was of great importance to com-
bine Duke Sigismund and these new confederates in an alliance
with the Swiss, between whom there had been great enmity
for a long time ; but it put his Majesty to the expense of several
embassies and a vast sum of money.

All hopes of an accommodation being entirely vanished, the

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY 5

Swiss ambassadors returned to acquaint their masters with the
Duke of Burgundy's absokite refusal of their propositions, and
to make preparations for their defence. The duke marched
with his army into the Pays de Vaud (in Savoy), which the
Swiss had taken from the Count of Romont, and he took three
or four towns belonging to Monsieur de Chasteau-Guyon,
which the Swiss had seized upon^ but defended very ill. From
thence he advanced to besiege a place called Granson ^ (which
also belonged to Monsieur de Chasteau-Guyon), into which
they had thrown 700 or 800 of their best troops ; and because
it was near them, they had resolved to defend it to the last
extremity. The duke's army was mightily increased, for he
daily received considerable re-enforcements out of Lombardy
and Savoy; and he entertained strangers rather than his own
subjects, of whom he might have formed a sufHcient army that
would have been more faithful and valiant : but the death of
the constable had filled him with strange jealousies of them,
and various other imaginations. He had a fine train of ar-
tillery, and he lived in great pomp and magnificence in the
camp, to show his grandeur and riches to the Italian and
German ambassadors who were sent to him ; and he had all
his valuable jewels, plate, and rich furniture with him : besides,
he had great designs upon the duchy of Milan, where he ex-
pected to find a considerable party. It was not many days
after the duke's investing Granson, before the garrison being
terrified with his continual battering it with cannon, surren-
dered at discretion, and were all put to the sword.- The Swiss
were assembled, but they were not very numerous,^ as several
of them have told me (for that country produced not so many
soldiers as was imagined, and still fewer than at present, be-
cause of late many of them have left their husbandry, and fol-
lowed the wars), and of their confederate troops there were
not many, because they were obliged to hasten at short notice
to the relief of their friends in Granson ; and when their army

1 " The duke encamped before Gran-
son on the nineteenth of February, 1476,
with an army of 50,000 men or more, of
all languages and countries, with a
quantity of cannon and other engines
of novel construction, and tents and
accoutrements all glittering with gold,
and a great host of servants, merchants,
and courtesans." " Chronique du Cha-
pitre de Neuchastel."

' " All the garrison were given over

to the provost-marshal, who, without
pity or mercy, caused them to be
hanged on the nearest trees by three
executioners, to the number of 400 or
thereabout, and the rest were drowned
in the lake." Molinet, i. 191.

' Three hundred men of Berne and
a hundred of Neufchatel assembled to
march to the relief of Granson, but

6 COMMINES

was ready to march, they received advice that the garrison
had all been put to the sword.

The Duke of Burgundy, contrary to the opinion of his
officers, resolved to advance and meet the enemy at the foot
of the mountains, to his great disadvantage ; for he was already
posted in a place much more proper for an engagement, being
fortified on one side with his artillery, and on the other by a
lake, so that in all appearance there was no fear of his being
injured by the enemy. He had detached a hundred of his
archers to secure a certain pass at the entrance of the moun-
tains,* and was advancing forward himself, when the Swiss
attacked him, while the greatest part of his army was still in
the plain. The foremost troops designed to fall back ; but
the infantry that were behind, supposing they were running
away, retreated toward their camp, and some of them behaved
themselves handsomely enough ; but, in the end, when they
arrived in their camp, they wanted courage to make a stand
and defend themselves, and they all fled, and the Swiss pos-
sessed themselves of their camp, in which were all their artil-
lery, a vast number of tents and pavilions, besides a great deal
of valuable plunder, for they saved nothing but their lives. ^
The duke lost all his finest rings, but of men, not above seven
men at arms ; the rest fled, and the duke with them. It may
more properly be said of him, " That he lost his honor and
his wealth in one day," than it was of King John of France,
who, after a brave defence, was taken prisoner at the battle
of Poictiers.

This was the first misfortune that ever happened to the
Duke of Burgundy in his whole life : for by the rest of his
enterprises he always acquired either honor or advantage. But
what a mighty loss did he sustain that day by his perverseness
and scorn of good advice ! How greatly did his family suffer !
In what a miserable condition it is at present ! And how like
to continue so! How many great princes and states became
his enemies, and openly declared against him, who but the
day before the battle were his friends, or at least pretended to
be so! And what was the cause of this war? A miserable

finding it impossible to penetrate the he received supplies of provisions for

Burgiindian lines, they " returned home his army. Molinct. i. loi.

groaning." " Chronique de Neuchas- ^ This rout took place on the even-

tel." ing of March 3, 14-6.
■* The Castle of Bomacourt. by wl'.ich

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY 7

cart-load of sheep-skins that the Count of Romont had taken
from a Swiss, in his passage through his estates. If God Al-
mighty had not forsaken the Duke of Burgundy, it is scarce
conceivable he would have exposed himself to such great
dangers upon so small and trivial an occasion ; especially con-
sidering the offers the Swiss had made him, and that his con-
quest of such enemies would yield him neither profit nor honor ;
for at that time the Swiss were not in such esteem as now,
and no people in the world could be poorer. A gentleman,
who had been one of their first ambassadors to the Duke of
Burgundy, told me that one of his chief arguments to dissuade
the duke from invading them, was that there was nothing for
him to gain from them ; for their country was barren and poor,
and he believed that, if all his countrj^men were taken prisoners,
all the money they could raise for their ransom would not
buy spurs and bridles for his army.

But to return to the battle; the King had many spies and
scouts abroad about the country (most of them despatched
by my orders), and it was not long before he received an
account of this defeat, at which he was extremely pleased, and
if he was grieved at anything, it was because so few of the
enemy had been slain. The King, for his better intelligence,
and to countermine the duke's designs, had removed to Lyons ;
and being a prince of great wisdom and penetration, he was
afraid lest the duke should, by force of arms, annex Switzerland
to his own dominions. The house of Savoy was at the Duke
of Burgundy's absolute disposal. The Duke of Milan was his
ally.^ King Rene of Sicily intended to deliver Provence into his
hands ; so that if his affairs had been crowned with success,
he would have been lord of all the countries from the Western
to the Eastern sea, and the people of France could not have
stirred out of the kingdom by land without the duke's permis-
sion, if he had possessed Savoy, Provence, and Lorraine. To
every one of these princes the King now sent ambassadors.
The Duchess of Savoy was his sister,'^ but in the duke's inter-
est ; the King of Sicily was his uncle,^ yet he was exceedingly

' A treaty between the Duke of Bur- married Amadeus IX, Duke nf Savoy,

gundy and the Duke of Milan had been in 1452, became a widow on March 28,

concluded at Moncalier on January 30, 1472, and died on August 29, 1478.

1475. ^ He was brother of Marie of Anjou,

' Yolande de France, sister of Louis the mother of Louis XT.
XI, was born on September 23, 1434,

8 COMMINES

cautious of receiving his ambassadors, and when he did, he
referred all to the Duke of Burgundy. The King also sent
to the German confederates, but with some difficulty ; for the
roads being blocked up, he was forced to employ mendicants,
pilgrims, and such kind of people. The confederate towns
replied somewhat haughtily : " Tell your King (said they),
if he does not declare for us, we will patch up a peace with
the duke, and declare against him ! " And the King was afraid
they would have done so.^ However, as yet he had no in-
clination to declare war against the duke, and was very fearful
he might hear of his secret negotiations with these countries.

But let us now take a view of the sudden alteration of
affairs after this battle, how negotiations were set on foot,
and with what prudence and judgment our King managed his
affairs ; for it may serve as a fair example to such young
princes, who foolishly undertake enterprises, without any fore-
sight, without any experience, or without consulting such per-
sons as are capable of advising them. The first step the
Duke of Burgundy made, was to despatch the Lord of Contay
to the King, with many submissive and friendly expressions,
contrars' both to his temper and custom. See what a change
one hour had made in him ! He entreated the King not to
break the truce, excused himself for not having met his Alajesty
at Auxerre according to the agreement between them, and
assured the King that in a little time he would attend him there,
or at any other place that his Majesty might be pleased to name.
The King received his envoy very kindly, and promised to
comply with his demands ; for he thought it not convenient to
do otherwise at that juncture of time ; as his Majesty was aware
of the loyalty and affection of the duke's subjects toward their
Prince, and that by their assistance he would quickly be re-
cruited ; ^° and therefore he had a mind to see the end of the

• Louis XI had made a treaty of alli-
ance with the Emperor and the elec-
tors in December, 1475. He confirmed
it on April 17, 1476. This confirmation
is probably what the confederate towns
now demanded.

'" His subjects were, however, begin-
ning to reject his demands. He assem-
bled the estates of Franche-Comte at
Salins, and stated his intention to levy
an army of 40,000 men, and to impose
a tax of one-fourth of their property
on his subjects. In answer, the Estates
declared that all they could offer him

was a force of 3,000 men, " to guard the
country." The estates of Burgundy de-
clared at Dijon that the war was utterly
useless, and that they would not in-
volve themselves in a groundless quar-
rel, in which they could have no hope
of success. And to crown all, the Flem-
ings wrote to him that, if he were sur-
rounded by the Swiss and Germans, and
had not men enough to extricate him-
self, they would come to his relief.
See Michelet's " Louis XI, et Charles
le Temeraire."

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY 9

war, without giving any occasion to either party of making a
peace. But how kindly soever the Lord of Contay was en-
tertained by the King, the people treated him with nothing
but libels and lampoons ; and ballads were publicly sung in
the streets, to extol the courage of the conquerors and to jeer
at the conquered.

As soon as Galeas, who was Duke of Milan at that time,
had received an account of this defeat, he was extremely
pleased, notwithstanding his alliance with the duke; which
alliance indeed was only the effect of fear, upon account of
the great favor and interest which the Duke of Burgundy
had in Italy. The Duke of Milan immediately sent a citizen
of Milan to the King (a person of no promising aspect), who
by the mediation of others was directed to me, and brought
me letters from his master. I informed the King of his ar-
rival, and his Majesty commanded me to receive his instruc-
tions ; for he was not yet reconciled to the Duke of Milan,
who had forsaken his alliance, and made a new one with the
Duke of Burgundy, though he and the King had married
two sisters.^ The design of his embassy was, to signify to the
King that his master the Duke of Milan was informed that
the King and the Duke of Burgundy had agreed upon an
interview, in order to a final peace and alliance between them,
which would be much to the prejudice of the duke his master ;
and he urged several arguments (but of no great force) against
it : but at last, in the conclusion of his speech, he told the King
that, if he would promise to make no such truce or treaty with
the Duke of Burgundy, the Duke of Milan would pay him
immediately 100,000 ducats. After the King had heard the
substance of his embassy, he ordered him to be brought into
his presence, and (there being nobody there but myself) his
Majesty spoke thus to him in short: "Here is M. d'Argen-
ton, who has told me so and so; pray tell your master
I will have none of his money, and that my yearly revenue
is thrice as much as his. As for war or peace, I will act as
I please. However, if he repents having left me to enter into
a league with the Duke of Burgundy, I am content our old
alliance shall be renewed and confirmed." The ambassador

1 The Duchess of Milan, Bona of Sa- tied Galeas Sforza, on May 9, 1468, and
voy, was sister of Charlotte of Savoy, died in 1485, after a widowhood of nine
the second wife of Louis XI. She mar- years.

lo COMMINES

returned the King most humble thanks ; and concluded by his
answer that he was no covetous prince ; and entreated his
Majesty that he would cause the said alliance to be published
in the same form as before, for he was sufficiently empowered
to promise that his master would do the same. The King
consented, and after dinner it was proclaimed,^ and an am-
bassador was immediately despatched from the King to Milan,
where it was proclaimed with great pomp and solemnity. This
was one of the Duke of Burgundy's first strokes of misfortune :
and this was the first great man that abandoned his interest,
who but three weeks before had sent a magnificent and solemn
embassy to him to desire his alliance.

Rene, King of Sicily, had a design to make the Duke of
Burgundy his heir, and to put Provence into his hand ; and
accordingly the Lord of Chasteau-Guyon ^ (who is now in Pied-
mont), and several other of the Duke of Burgundy's officers,
were sent with 20,000 crowns to raise soldiers to take possession
of Provence. But upon the news of this defeat, they had much
ado to escape themselves, and the Count of Bresse seized
upon their money. The Duchess of Savoy had received in-
formation of it also, and sent immediately to the King of
Sicily to extenuate the loss, and strengthen him in his alliance.
But the messengers, who were natives of Provence, were ap-
prehended, and by that means the treaty between the King
of Sicily and the Duke of Burgundy was discovered. The
King our master immediately sent a good body of troops toward
Provence, and despatched ambassadors to the King of Sicily,
to invite him to come to him, and to assure him he should
be heartily welcome ; or otherwise his Majesty would be obliged
to provide for his own safety by force of arms. The King of
Sicily was persuaded to visit the King at Lyons, and was re-
ceived with great honor and civility. I happened to be present
at his arrival, and after their first compliments of salutation,
John Cosse,* Seneschal of Provence (a person of honor, and of
a noble family in the kingdom of Naples), addressed himself

^ This treaty between Louis XT and the enemy's ranks and nearly succeed-

the Duke of Milan was concluded on ed in taking their standard; but his

August 9, 1476. charge was unsupported, and therefore

^ Hugues de Chalon, Lord of Chas- unavailing.

teau-Guyon and Nozeroy, was the son * Jean, Lord of Cosse in Anjou, was

of Louis de Chalon, Prince of Orange, one of the councillors and chamber-

and Leonore d'Armagnac. He was a lains of King Rene, and Seneschal of

man of distinguished bravery. At the Provence,
battle of Granson, he twice dashed amid

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY n

to the King- in the following manner : " Be not surprised, sire,
if the King-, my master and your uncle, has oflfered to make
the Duke of Burgundy his heir ; for it was the advice of his
council (and particularly mine), upon this ground, that not-
withstanding you were his nephew and sister's son, yet you
had injuriously taken from him the castles of Bar and Angers,
and used him unhandsomely in all his other affairs. We there-
fore promoted this treaty with the Duke of Burgundy, that
your Majesty being informed of it, might thereby be the better
inclined to do us justice, and be put in mind that my master
is your uncle. But, we never intended to bring that treaty
to a conclusion."

The King took his speech very wisely and well; and he
knew it was true, for M. Cosse was the person that man-
aged the whole affair. In a few days after, all their dif-
ferences were adjusted ; the King of Sicily and all his retinue
were largely presented with money ; ^ and the King entertained
him among the ladies, and treated him in every respect as
he loved to be treated ; so that a perfect reconciliation took
place between them, and no mention was made of the Duke
of Burgundy, for not only King Rene but all his allies had
abandoned him ; and this was another misfortune occasioned
by his defeat. The Duchess of Savoy,*' who for a long time
had been suspected to be her brother's enemy, sent a private
messenger (called the Lord of Montaigny), who addressed
himself to me, to endeavor her reconciliation, and to represent
the reasons which had induced her to abandon the interest
of the King her brother, and to state her doubts of the King.
However, to speak impartially, she was a lady of great wisdom,
and my master's true sister. She was unwilling to proceed
to an open rupture with the Duke of Burgundy, but seemed
desirous to temporize and to renew her friendship with the
King. And she continued to send him news of the duke's
adventures, that the King might treat her more favorably ; and
he ordered me to despatch her envoy with all expedition, to
give her good encouragement, and to invite her into France.
Thus another of the Duke of Burgundy's confederates fell off
from him, and endeavored to abandon his alliance. In Ger-

^ Louis XT undertook to pay Rene a * Yolande of France, Duchess of Sa-

pensionof 60.000 francs yearly during the voy, and sister to Louis XL
remainder of liis life. Lenglet, iii. 392.

COMMINES

many they began universally to declare against the duke ; and
several towns of the empire, as Nuremberg, Frankfort, and
others, joined in a confederacy with the new and old allies of
Switzerland against him ; and it seemed that whatever mischief
could be done to him, was quite pardonable.

The poor Swiss were mightily enriched by the plunder of
his camp.''' At first they did not understand the value of the
treasure they were masters of, especially the common soldiers.
One of the richest and most magnificent tents in the world
was cut into pieces. There were some of them that sold
quantities of dishes and plates of silver for about two sous of
our money, supposing they had been pewter. His great
diamond (perhaps the largest and finest jewel in Christen-
dom), with a large pearl fixed to it, was taken up by a Swiss,
put up again into the case, thrown under a wagon, taken
up again by the same soldier, and after all offered to a priest
for a florin, who bought it, and sent it to the magistrate of that
country, who returned him three francs as a sufficient reward.^
They took also three very rich jewels, called the Three Broth-
ers, another large ruby called La Hatte, and another called
the Ball of Flanders, which were the fairest and richest in
the world ; besides a prodigious quantity of other goods, which
has since taught them what fine things may be purchased for
money; for their victories, the esteem the King had of their

' The following is a list of the spoil
taken by the Swiss at Granson, from
Peignot's " Amusemens Philolo-

giques ":

" I. Five hundred pieces of heavy ar-
tillery, with a quantity of ammunition,
and abundance of provisions.

" 2. Four hundred tents of great rich-
ness, fitted with silk and velvet, and
with the duke's arms embroidered there-
on in gold and pearls. Most of these
were spoiled by the Swiss, who made
them into clothes.

" 3. Six hundred banners and stand-
ards; 300 helmets, 300 cwt. of gunpow-
der; 3,000 sacks of barley; 2,000 baggage
wagons; 2,000 barrels of herrings, and a
quantity of other dried fish, and salted
meat, geese, and fowls; and abundance
of sugar, raisins, figs, almonds, and
other things innumerable; and 8,000
spiked clubs.

"4. Four himdred pounds weight of
silver plate, which was taken to Lu-
cerne, and divided among the Swiss, to
say nothing of that which was carried
off by the soldiers.

" 5. Three hundred complete services
of magnificent silver plate; and so great

a quantity of coined money that it was
distributed by handfuls; four wagon-
loads of crossbows and strings; and
three wagon-loads of bed-linen.

" 6. The coffer containing the duke's
archives, and his great diamond.

" 7. The duke's rosary, with the apos-
tles in massive gold.

" 8. The duke's sword, adorned with
seven large diamonds and as many ru-
bies, with fifteen pearls of the size of a
bean, and of the finest water; 160 pieces
of cloth of gold and silk; with innu-
merable relics in rich shrines; the
duke's gilded chair, and his gold ring,
and the ring of his brother Antony, and
two large pearls set in gold, each as
large as a nut.

" This famous diamond, called the
Sancy diamond, was sold by the last-
mentioned purchasers to M. de Dies-
bach, for 5,400 Rhine florins; he sold it
to a Genevese jeweller for 7,000 Rhine
florins; it was next sold to the Duke of
Milan for 11,000 ducats; then to Pope
Julius for 20,000 ducats; and in 1835. it
was purchased by Prince Demidoff for
£20,000. It is said to weigh 53J grains.

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY 13

service afterward, and the presents he made them, have enriched
them prodigiously.

The King made every one of their ambassadors that was
sent in the first embassy to his Majesty very considerable
presents in plate or money, by which means he pacified them
for not openly declaring and entering into an alliance with
them; and they returned with their purses well filled, and
their persons clothed in silk, beside a promise of a pension
of 40,000 florins of the Rhine (which he paid afterward, but
he saw the event of a second battle first), 20,000 to the towns,
and 20,000 to the governors of them.^ Nor should I tell an un-
truth in saying, that from the battle of Granson to the death of
our master, their towns and magistrates received of his Majesty
above a million of Rhine florins ; and by the towns I mean only
four, Berne, Lucerne, Friburg, Zurich, and their cantons, or
mountains. Schwytz also is another of their cantons, though
but a small village ; yet I have seen an ambassador of that
village, who, though he was in a mean dress, yet gave his
opinion with the others. The other cantons are Claris and
Underwald.

But to return to the Duke of Burgundy's aflfairs. He assem-
bled forces on all sides, and, in three weeks' time, he had as
many as he had had in the late battle. His quarters were at
Losanne, in Savoy,^° where you, my Lord of Vienne, attended
him with your counsels in an illness, which melancholy and
vexation for the dishonor he had sustained, had occasioned;
and truly I am of opinion, that from the very day of his defeat,
his understanding was never so good as it had been before.
The account I give you of the great army he had assembled
again, I received from the Prince of Tarento,^ who in my pres-
ence made the same relation to the King. This prince had
come to the duke's court about a year before, with a very splen-
did equipage, in the hope of marrying his daughter, the heiress
of Flanders. And, indeed, he appeared to be a king's son by
the gracefulness of his person, and the splendor of his appear-

• Of this sum, 9,000 francs were given * The principality of Tarentum was
to certain private individuals, and the not actually conferred on Don Fred-
remainder v.'as thus divided: 6,000 eric of Arragon until 1485, but he ap-
francs to Berne, 3,000 to Lucerne, and pears to have enjoyed the titular dig-
2,000 to Zurich. Lenglet, iii. 379. nity for some time previously. He be-

'" The duke reached Lausanne on came King of Naples in 1496, and died

April 29, 1476, and remained there until on November 9, 1504.
the twenty-seventh of May.

COMMINES

ance and retinue ; for his father, the King of Naples,^ had
spared no cost to set him off. The Duke of Burgundy did but
dissemble with him; for, at the same time, he was in treaty
with the Duchess of Savoy for her son, beside others else-
where. The Prince of Tarento (called Don Frederic of Arra-
gon) and his council, growing weary of his delays, sent a
herald, who was a clever person, to our King, to desire his Maj-
esty to grant the prince a passport to return safely through his
dominions into his own country, for his father had sent for
him. The King granted it very willingly, because he believed
it would redound to the Duke of Burgundy's dishonor, and
would lessen his interest abroad. However, before the return
of the messenger, the German confederates had taken the field,
and lay encamped not far from the Duke of Burgundy.

The prince took his leave of the duke the night before the
battle,^ in obedience to his father's command ; for in the first
engagement he had given signal proofs of his valor. There are
some (my Lord of Vienne) who affirm, that he left the army
by your advice ; and I heard him say, upon his arrival at court,
to the Duke of Astoly,* called the Count Julio, and to several
others, that your lordship transmitted an account into Italy of
all that happened both in the first and second battles, several
days before they were fought.^

At the prince's departure, the confederates (as I said before)
were encamped near the Duke of Burgundy, with a design to
give him battle, and raise the siege of Morat, a small town
near Berne, belonging to the Count of Romont. The confed-
erates (as I was informed by those who were present in that
action) might be about 30,000 foot, all choice troops and well
armed; that is to say, 11,000 picked men, 10,000 halberdiers,
and 10,000 musketeers, beside a body of 4,000 horse. The con-
federate forces were not all arrived ; so that only those men-
tioned above were in the engagement, and they were more than

- Ferdinand I, natural son of Alphon-
so, King of Naples, succeeded his fa-
ther in 1458, and died on January 25,
1494.

" C>n June 21, :476.

* According to some commentators,
the person here referred to is the Duke
of Ascoli, but as the name of that no-
bleman was Orso Orsino, it is impos-
sible that he can be identical with
" Count Julio," who, as Commines tells
us, possessed the dukedom in question.

It is more probable that our author al-
ludes to Giulio Antonio Aquaviva, Duke
of Atri, a distinguished statesman and
warrior, known in Neapolitan history
as " Count Giulio." The Duke of Atri,
moreover, had been chosen by King
Ferdinand to accompany Prince Fred-
eric of Arragon on his visit to the Court
of Burgundy.

' Angelo Catto was celebrated as a
physician and astrologer.

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY 15

was necessary. The Duke of Lorraine arrived at their camp
also with a small re-enforcement, which was of great advantage
to him afterward, for the Duke of Burgundy was in possession
of his whole dukedom. Nor was it to his prejudice that our
court began to grow weary of him, though I believe he was
never conscious of it himself. But when a great person has
lost all, those that support and maintain him soon grow weary
of him. The King gave him a small sum of money, and sent a
strong party of troops with him through the duchy of Lor-
raine, to conduct him safely into Germany, and then to return.
The Duke of Lorraine had not only lost that country, but also
the country of Vaudemont, and most part of Barrois (the rest
being secured by the King, so that all was gone) ; and, which
was worse, all his subjects, and even his domestics, had sworn
allegiance to the Duke of Burgundy, and that voluntarily, with-
out any compulsion; so that his condition seemed past recov-
ery. However, in such cases God always remains judge and
arbitrator, and decides such affairs according to his own pleas-
ure.

When the Duke of Lorraine had passed through his own
dominions, after several days' march, he arrived at the camp
of the confederates not many hours before the engagement.
Though he brought but few men, yet his arrival was much to
his honor and advantage, for otherwise he would have had a
poor reception. Just as he arrived, both armies were advanc-
ing to engage ; for the allies had lain three days or more
strongly encamped at a small distance from the Duke of Bur-
gundy, whose army, after some small resistance, was entirely
defeated and put to flight.*' Nor did he escape so well as in
the first engagement : for the Swiss not having then a body of
horse, he lost not above seven men at arms ; but at this battle
of Morat they had 4,000 good horse, who pursued the Bur-
gundians a great way, and cut off a considerable number of
them. Beside their whole body of infantry was engaged with
the duke's foot, who were very numerous ; for, beside his own
subjects, and a considerable body of English, who were in his
pay, he had great re-enforcements out of Piedmont and Milan,

• Four years after the battle a chapel caesus, hoc sui Monumentum reliquit."

was erected on the field with this in- In 1822 a handsome stone obelisk was

scription: "Deo Optimo Maximo. In- set up, in a commanding position over-

clyti et fortissimi Burgundije Dncis Ex- looking the lake, also in commemora-

ercitus, Moratum obsidens, ab Helvetiis tion of this victory.

i6 COMMINES

as I said before. And when the Prince of Tarento was with the
King, he told me he had never seen a finer army in his Ufe ;
for, as they marched over a bridge, he caused them to be num-
bered, and they amounted to 23,000 men in pay, beside those
that belonged to the train of artillery, and followed the camp.
To me this seems a very great number, yet there are some who
make it much greater, and upon very slight grounds will multi-
ply armies prodigiously.

The Lord of Contay arrived at our court not long after the
battle, and owned in my presence, that the Duke of Burgundy
lost in that battle 8,000 of his standing forces, beside those
that followed the camp ; and, by the best information I could
get, I presume that the number of the slain in all, might amount
to near 18,000 men; which is not at all improbable, if we con-
sider the great bodies of horse that the princes of Germany had
there, and the vast number of those that were slain in the duke's
camp before Morat. The duke fled himself as far as Bur-
gundy, in great disconsolateness, and not without reason ;
he stopped at a place called La Riviere," where he rallied
what forces he could. The Germans pursued only that night,
and then gave over the chase, without following him any
farther.

This defeat drove the Duke of Burgundy almost to despair ;
for by what he had observed since his first loss at Granson, he
perceived all his friends and allies were resolved to abandon
him ; and his defeat at Granson happened not above three weeks
previously.^ In this apprehension, by the advice of some peo-
ple, he caused the Duchess of Savoy and one of her sons, who
is now Duke of Savoy,'' to be brought into Burgundy by force.
Her eldest son at that time was saved by some of the servants
belonging to the family ; for those who committed this act of
violence did it in fear, and were obliged to use more haste than
was convenient. That which moved the duke to this exploit,
was a suspicion lest she should retire to the King her brother,
though, as he pretended, all this misfortune was caused him by
his great affection to the house of Savoy. The duke ordered

^ La Riviere is a small town in the nineteen days before that of Morat.

arrondissement of Pontarlier, in the de- The former was fought on the third of

partment of Doubs. The duke arrived March, and the latter on June 22, 1476.

there on the twenty-second of July. » Charles I, born on March 29, 1408,

Lenglet, ii. 220. succeeded his brother Philibert in 1482.

'This is a mistake; the battle of He married Blanche of Montferrat, and

Granson occurred three months and died on March 13, 1489.

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY

her to be conducted to the Castle of Rouvre/" near Dijon, and
placed some small guard about her, but whoever had a mind had
liberty to visit her. Among the rest, the Lord of Chasteau-
Guyon and the Marquis of Rotelin came to w^ait on her High-
ness, between whom and two of her daughters the duke had
treated of marriage, though at that time neither of them had
been concluded, but both have been since. Her eldest son
Philibert, at that time Duke of Savoy, was conveyed to Cham-
bery by those who contrived his escape,^ at which place he
found the Bishop of Geneva, who was a son of the house of
Savoy, but a very headstrong man, and governed wholly by a
Commander de Ranvers.^ With this bishop and his governor,
the Commander de Ranvers, the King managed affairs so art-
fully, that the Duke of Savoy and a younger brother of his,^
called the prothonotary, with the castles of Chambery and
Montmeillan,* were delivered into his Majesty's hands ; and
he already had another castle in his possession, in which were
all the jewels belonging to the duchess.

As soon as the duchess found, upon her arrival at Rouvre,
that she was attended by her whole train of maids of honor
and a host of other servants, as I said before ; and observed the
Duke of Burgundy wholly intent upon raising men, and that
her guards did not retain that dread and awe of their master
which they formerly had, she resolved to send to her brother
the King, to propose a peace and beg his assistance; yet she
would have been unwilling to have put herself into his power,
had she been in any other place but where she was, for there
had been a great long-standing quarrel between them. The
duchess sent a gentleman of Piedmont, named Riverol,^ who
was steward of her house, and had instructions to apply to me.
As soon as I had received his message, and communicated it to

1" In the department of the Cote-d'Or.
This expedition was intrusted to Oliver
de la Marche, who had to answer for
its performance with his head. See
his Memoirs.

^ Geoflfroi, Lord of Riverol, a Pied-
montese gentleman, rescued the duke
from the hands of those who had seized
him. Louis de Villette, a gentleman of
Savoy, saved his brother.

^ Jean de Montchenu, Commander of
Saint Antoine de Ranvers, became
Bishop of Agen in 1477, and was trans-
lated to the see of Vivier in 1478. In
previous editions, he has been errone-
ously termed a commander of Rhodes.

'Jacques Louis de Savoie, Count of
Geneva and Marquis de Gex. He died
at Turin on July 27, 1485, without issue.

•* " The Bishop of Geneva forced the
governor of Montmeillan to surrender
the place, wherein were all the treasures
and jewels of the Regent." Guichenon,
ii. 143. This must, therefore, be the cas-
tle to. which Commines refers in the suc-
ceeding paragraph.

^ Geoffroi de Riverol, mentioned in a
preceding note. The duchess had pre-
viously sent her secretary Cavorret to
the King; but Louis XI had put him
in arrest because he was dressed in the
Burgundian fashion.

i8 COMMliNES

the King, his Majesty ordered him to be introduced into his
presence ; and after he had given him audience, he told him
that he would not abandon his sister in this extremity, notwith-
standing the differences that had been between them ; and if she
would trust to him, he would send the governor of Champagne,
who was then Charles d'Amboise, Lord of Chaumont, to fetch
her.

M. Riverol took his leave of the King, and posted with all
speed to his mistress with the news. The duchess was over-
joyed to hear it, yet she immediately sent another agent to the
King, to desire his Majesty would give his word that she should
have liberty to return into Savoy whenever she pleased, and
that he would restore to her not only the duke her son and his
young brother, but the castles and places which he had seized
upon, and would defend and maintain her authority in Savoy ;
and then she would renounce all other alliances, and keep her-
self entirely in his interest. The King promised to grant all
she desired, and immediately despatched an express to the Lord
of Chaumont to go and deliver her ; which was well attempted,
and as well performed; for the Lord of Chaumont, with a
strong detachment,® went to Rouvre, without the least disorder
or damage to the country through which he marched, and
brought away the Duchess of Savoy and her whole train to
the next garrison belonging to the King. When the King
despatched this last message to the Duchess of Savoy, his Maj-
esty had left Lyons, where he had sojourned full six months,
on purpose to defeat and countermine the designs of the Duke
of Burgundy, without violating the truce ; and if we seriously
consider the posture of the duke's affairs, we shall see that the
King was a greater enemy to him in not opposing him openly,
but creating him new enemies underhand, than if he had de-
clared open war against him ; for upon such a declaration, the
duke would have abandoned his rash enterprises and designs,
and that would not have occurred which happened to him after-
ward.

The King having left Lyons, continued his journey directly
to Rouanne, from whence he came down the River Loire to
Tours. Upon his arrival there, his Majesty received the news

• Oliver de la Marche says that the Lord of Chaumont took with him 200
lances.

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY

of his sister's deliverance, at which he was extremely pleased,
and sent an express immediately to direct her to come to him,
and ordered a sum of money to be remitted to defray the ex-
pense of her journey. When the King was informed of her
approach, he sent several persons of quality to meet her, and
went himself as far as the gate of Plessis-du-Parc, where he
received her with abundance of tenderness and civility, and
saluted her thus, " My Lady of Burgundy, you are heartily
welcome." She knew well by his countenance that he was in a
merry humor, and replied very prudently, *' that she was no
Burgundian, but a true French woman, and ready to obey him
in whatever he might command." The King conducted her to
her apartment, and entertained her with great splendor ; but
the truth is he was very desirous to be rid of her, and she being
a cunning woman, and understanding his temper perfectly well,
was even more desirous to be gone than he was to have her go.
The management of this whole affair was committed to me, and
the King ordered me to supply her with money during her stay
at court, to provide for her return, to furnish her wardrobe
with silks, and to draw up the form of their alliance for the
time to come. The King used his utmost endeavors to break
off the matches that I mentioned before, but she excused her-
self, and pretended that the affections of her daughters were
so far engaged, that it would be impossible to break them off;
and when the King found that, he pressed it no further.

After the duchess had been at Plessis about seven or eight
days, the King and her Highness entered into a mutual oath
of amity for the future, and instruments to that purpose were
interchangeably delivered : '^ after which she took her leave,
and the King ordered her to be conducted safely into her own
country ; and her children, castles, jewels, and whatever be-
longed to her besides, were punctually restored to her. Both
were extremely pleased to be rid of one another upon such
handsome terms ; and ever after they continued very good
friends, as a brother and sister ought to do.

But to continue the chief subject of these " Memioirs," we are
obliged to return to the Duke of Burgundy, who, after his de-
feat at Morat (in the year 1476). had fled to a town called La

^ These papers are dated November 2, and her son apainst the attacks and
1476. The King thereby pledged his pretensions of Charles of Burgundy,
word to defend and support his sister

20 COMMINES

Riviere, at the entrance into Burgundy, where he lay six weeks,
under pretence of raising men to recruit his army ; but he pro-
ceeded very slowly in that affair, and instead of being active
and vigorous, he lived like a hermit, and all his actions seemed
rather the effect of sullenness and obstinacy than anything else,
as will appear by what follov^^s.

His concern and grief for his first defeat at Granson was
so great, and made such a deep impression on his spirits, that
it threw him into a violent and dangerous fit of sickness; for
whereas before, his choler and natural heat were so great that
he drank no wine, but only in a morning took a little tisane,
and ate conserve of roses, to refresh himself ; this sudden mel-
ancholy had so altered his constitution, that he now drank the
strongest wine that could be got, without any water at all ;
and to reduce the rush of blood to his heart, his physicians were
obliged to apply cupping-glasses with burning tow to his side.
But this (my Lord of Vienne) you know better than I, for your
lordship attended on him during the whole course of his ill-
ness, and it was by your persuasion that the duke was prevailed
upon to cut his beard, which was of a prodigious length. In
my opinion his understanding was never so perfect, nor his
senses so sedate and complete, after this fit of sickness, as
before. So violent are the passions of men unacquainted with
adversity, who never seek the true remedy for their misfor-
tunes, especially princes, who are naturally haughty : for in
such cases our best method is to have recourse to God, to reflect
on the many vile transgressions by which we have offended
his divine goodness, to humble ourselves before him, and to
make an acknowledgment of our faults : for he determines
all things as it seems best to his heavenly wisdom, and who
dare question the justness of his dispensations, or impute any
error to him? It is also well to unbosom ourselves freely to
some intimate friends, not to keep our sorrows concealed, but
to expatiate on every circumstance of them, without being
ashamed or reserved ; for this mitigates the rigor of our mis-
fortunes, revives the heart, and restores their usual vigor and
activity to our dejected spirits. There is another remedy also,
and that is labor and exercise (for as we are but men, these
sorrows cannot be dissipated without great pains and applica-
tion, both in public and private), which is a much better course

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY

than that which the duke took in hiding himself, and retiring
from all manner of company ; for by that means he grew so
terrible to his own servants, that none of them durst venture to
come near him to give him either counsel or comfort, but suf-
fered him to go on in that melancholy state of life, fearing lest
their advising him to the contrary might have turned to their
destruction.

During these six weeks (or thereabouts) that he lay at La
Riviere with very few troops (nor was it to be wondered at,
after the loss of two such great battles as you have heard
before), many declared themselves openly against him, his
friends were grown cold, his subjects were defeated and rebel-
lious, and began (as is usual) to murmur and contemn their
master on account of his misfortunes. He lost several little
towns in Lorraine, as Vaudemont, Espinal, and others. All the
neighboring States began to make preparations to invade him ;
and the vilest and most insignificant of them were now the most
forward in doing him mischief. The Duke of Lorraine (upon
this report) assembled a small body of forces, and besieged
Nancy ; * the small towns about it were most of them in his
possession already ; but the Duke of Burgundy was master of
Pont-a-Mousson, about four leagues off. Among those that
were besieged in Nancy, there was a gentleman of the house
of Croy, called the Lord of Bievres,® a good officer, and a person
of honor, whose forces were made up out of several countries.
There was also an Englishman called Colpin, a brave soldier
(though of no great birth), who with other officers belonging
to the garrison of Guynes, had entered the service of the Duke
of Burgundy. This Colpin had the command of about 300
English in the town, and though they were not pressed either
by approaches or batteries,^" they began to be uneasy at the
duke's slowness in marching to their relief : ^ and indeed he

* The garrison of Nancy consisted of
about 1,000 or 1,200 Burgundian troops.
Duke Rene laid siege to the town on
September 15, 1476.

* Jean de Rubempre, Lord of Bievre,
was appointed Bailiff of Hainault in
1473, and created a knight of the Gold-
en Fleece in 1475. He was killed in the
battle of Nancy.

"Molinet (i. 208) says: "The be-
sieged ran so short of provisions that
they were glad to eat horse-flesh. The
townspeople were so false and disloyal
to them, that if the captains had made

a sortie, they would not have been ad-
mitted again into the town. And fur-
thermore, two bombards, one culverin,
and several serpentines, were continu-
ally firing on them, as many as twenty-
one shots a day, by which means a gate
was broken through, and the dilapidated
wall was razed to the ground.

1 The Lord of Fay, Lieutenant of
Luxembourg, collected a body of
forces, and marched with the Count of
Campobasso to the relief of Nancy. But
instead of proceeding thither at once,
they spent a considerable time in de-

22 COMMINES

was highly to blame ; for the quarters where he lay were at
so great a distance from Lorraine, that he could do them no
service, and certainly it would have been better for him to have
defended what was left, than to have meditated revenge on the
Swiss for what he had lost. But his perverseness in following
no counsel but his own, turned greatly to his disadvantage ;
for notwithstanding that he was daily pressed to relieve that
place, yet he continued (without any necessity) at La Riviere
full six weeks; whereas if he had done otherwise, he might
easily have raised the siege of Nancy, for the Duke of Lor-
raine's forces were not numerous,^ and so long as the country
of Lorraine was in his possession, he had free communication
between his other territories (through Luxembourg and Lor-
raine) into Burgundy ; so that if his intellects had been as right
and his judgment as sound as they were formerly, he would
certainly have marched with greater expedition to their relief.

While the garrison of Nancy lay in continual expectation of
being relieved, it happened that the above-mentioned Colpin,
who commanded the English troops in the town, was killed
by a cannon-ball; his death was a vast prejudice to the Duke
of Burgundy's concerns, for a prince very often is preserved
from great inconveniences by the management of one single
person, provided he has wisdom and valor, although his ex-
traction be mean ; and in this particular I knew no man more
careful than our master, for certainly never prince was more
fearful of losing his men than his Majesty. Upon the death
of Colpin, the English under his command began to murmur
and despair of relief. They were not aware of the Duke of
Lorraine's weakness, and that the Duke of Burgundy had many
ways of re-enforcing his army ; and besides, the English, not
having been abroad for a long time, had but little experience in
foreign wars, and were wholly ignorant in regard to a siege.
In short, they mutinied for a composition, and plainly told
the governor, M. de Bievres, that if he would not consent to
a capitulation, they would make one without him. Though
Bievres was a good knight, yet he wanted courage and resolu-

ciding on the route they should take, Morat, so that, says Molinet, " their

and in waiting for re-enforcements. succor, which should have been prompt

This delay arose chiefly from their ex- and zealous, was very tardy and unwill-

pectation that they would get but little ingly given."

booty in Lorraine; and their allegiance ^According to Molinet (i. 207) the

to IJuke Charles had been greatly duke had 10,000 Swiss, horse and foot,
shaken by his defeats at Granson and

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY

tion. He remonstrated, entreated, and begged of them to have
a little patience ; whereas, in my opinion, if he had hectored,
and carried matters with an air of greater authority and reso-
lution, he had succeeded better ; but God had ordered it other-
wise: for had they held out but three days longer, the Duke
of Burgundy would have certainly raised the siege. But, in
short, the governor complied with the English, and the town
was surrendered ^ to the Duke of Lorraine, upon condition of
saving their goods and sparing their persons.

The next day, or at furthest two days after the surrender,
the Duke of Burgundy appeared with a very good army, con-
sidering his condition, for several of his own subjects had
marched up through the province of Luxembourg to join him.
The Duke of Lorraine and he faced one another,* but no action
of importance happened between them, the Duke of Lorraine
being too weak to attempt anything. The Duke of Burgundy,
in his old obstinate way, was resolved to besiege Nancy again,^
though it had been much wiser in him not to have undertaken
it at that time ; but when God is pleased to change the fortune
of princes, he puts these obstinate inclinations into them. Had
the Duke of Burgundy been persuaded to have garrisoned the
little places about the town, as he was advised, he would quickly
have reduced it to great straits, and would have forced it to
surrender in a short time, for it was but ill-provided with pro-
visions, and the multitude in the town would have presently
distressed it ; while he would have had time to recruit his army,
and put them into quarters of refreshment ; but he took quite
another course.

While the Duke of Burgundy was pushing on the siege of
Nancy (so unfortunately for himself, his subjects, and many
others who were not at all concerned in his quarrel), many
of his own party began to enter into a conspiracy against him,
and new enemies, as you have heard, surrounded and invaded
him on all sides. Among the rest there was the Count Nicolo
Campobasso, of the Kingdom of Naples, who had been banished
from thence for espousing the interest of the house of Anjou,^

' On October 6, 1476. jou to the Kingdom of Naples date

* On October loth the Duke of Bur- from the will of Joan I, Queen of Na-

gundy came up with Duke Rene at pies, made on June 23, 1380, in favor of

Pont-a-Mousson. Lenglet, ii. 220. Louis I, Duke of Anjou, and brother of

^ (^n October 22, 1476. King Charles VI of France.

° The pretensions 01 the house of An-

24 COMMINES

and whom, after the death of Nicholas, Duke of Calabria, the
Duke of Burgundy had entertained in his service, with several
other of the Duke of Calabria's servants. This count was very
poor, both in money and lands-; at his first coming to him, the
Duke of Burgundy gave him 40,000 ducats in ready money, to
raise a troop in Italy, which was to consist of 400 lances, and
to be commanded and paid by himself. From that very mo-
ment, as I said before, he began to form designs against the life
of his master, and continued to carry on his secret practices
to the time of which I am now speaking ; for, finding his mas-
ter's power declining, he began to practise underhand with the
Duke of Lorraine, and such of the King's officers and servants
in Champagne as were not far from the Duke of Burgundy's
army. His first proposal to the Duke of Lorraine was, to delay
the siege of Nancy, by not taking care to provide a sufficient
quantity of provisions and ammunition, so that the army would
be unable to carry it on for want of necessaries ; and, indeed,
it was no hard matter for him to do this, for he was intrusted
with this charge, and had the greatest influence with the duke
his master. With our officers he dealt more freely, and prom-
ised to take or kill the Duke of Burgundy, provided he were
continued in the command of his 400 lances upon the same foot-
ing as before, and had 20,000 crowns and a good county in
France beside.

While he was driving his bargains after this manner, several
of the Duke of Lorraine's officers attempted to throw them-
selves into the town ; some of them got in, but others were
taken, and among the rest one Cifron,'^ a gentleman of Prov-
ence, who had managed the whole affair between Campobasso
and the Duke of Lorraine. The Duke of Burgundy immedi-
ately commanded this Cifron to be hanged, affirming that when
a prince has once invested a town, and erected batteries to play
upon it, if any endeavored to re-enforce and strengthen the
garrison they were condemned to death by the laws of war.
However, this was not practised in our wars, which, in other
respects, are much more cruel than those of Italy or Spain,
where that custom prevails. But, right or wrong, this gentle-
man was to die by the Duke of Burgundy's express order. The
gentleman, finding that his death was inevitable, sent to ac-

^ Suffron de Bachier, councillor and steward to King Rene.

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY

quaint the duke that, if he pleased but to admit him to his pres-
ence, he would make a discovery of something that nearly con-
cerned his person. Some gentlemen who heard his proposal,
brought the news of it to the duke at a time when the Count
of Campobasso was with him, either by accident, or else on
purpose, having intelligence that Cifron was taken, and fear-
ing he would discover all he knew ; for he knew the whole
intrigue from one end to the other, and that was the secret he
would have discovered to the duke.

The duke answered those that brought him this message,
that it was only an artifice to gain time, and that if he had
anything to discover, he might tell it to them. The Count
of Campobasso highly applauded this answer, there being
only himself, who was the chief commander in the army, and
a secretary that was writing, then present. The prisoner sent
word again, that he could discover it to nobody but the duke
himself; upon which the duke ordered him to be carried to
execution immediately, and his orders were obeyed. As he
was going to the place of execution, Cifron entreated sev-
eral to intercede with the duke to save his life, and he would
discover a secret that was of greater importance to him than
the best province in his dominions. Several of his acquaintance
had compassion on him, and went to desire the duke that, for
their sake, he would vouchsafe to admit him into his presence ;
but this treacherous count stood at the door of the wooden
house in which the duke lodged, refused them entrance, and
told them, " The duke commands that he be immediately exe-
cuted," * and sent messengers on purpose to hasten the provost ;
so that finally poor Cifron was hanged, to the unspeakable
prejudice of the Duke of Burgundy, for whom it had been much
better to have treated this unfortunate gentleman with more
humanity, and heard what he had to say ; for then, perhaps, he
might have been alive to this day, and his house in a more
flourishing condition, considering what occurrences had hap-
pened since in this kingdom.

But we have reason to believe that God had otherwise or-
dained it, as a punishment for his late disloyalty to the Count

* According to the Chronicle of Lor- duke, " who was armed, and had his

raine, Campobasso acted in just the op- gauntlets on, raised his hand, and

posite way. He undertook the defence knocked the count down." Calmet, vii.

of Suffron so strenuously that the ii8.

26 COMMINES

of St. Paul, constable of France, of which you have heard else-
where in these " Memoirs " ; how he seized upon his person,
contrary to his solemn promise and engagement, delivered him
to the King to be put to death, and sent all his letters and con-
tracts to serve as an evidence against him at his trial. And
though the duke had just reason to bear a mortal hatred against
the constable, and to pursue him even to death, yet he should
have done it without breaking his faith ; nor can all the rea-
sons that could be alleged in this case extenuate the crime, or
cover the dishonor that will always be a stain and blot on the
duke's character ; for notwithstanding the safe-conduct and
protection that he granted the constable, he yet seized upon
him afterward, and sold him for covetousness, not only to
obtain the town of St. Ouentin and other fortresses, inheri-
tances and movables belonging to the constable, but also in
the hope of taking Nancy the first time he besi.eged it ; for
after many excuses and dissimulations he delivered up the con-
stable, for fear that the King's army in Champagne might
interrupt his enterprise; his Majesty having threatened to do
so by his ambassadors, unless he should perform his articles,
by which the first that took the constable was obliged to de-
liver him up within eight days, or to see him executed himself.
But the duke had deferred his surrender for several days longer
than was agreed upon between them ; and the fear of being
called to account for this, and of being interrupted in the siege
of Nancy, prevailed with him to deliver up the constable, as
you have heard.

And it is worthy of our observation, that as, in his first
siege of Nancy, he was guilty of that dishonorable action toward
the constable ; and in his second, he ordered Cifron to be
hanged ( for he would not hear him, like a person whose under-
standing v^^as infatuated, and his ears stopped to his own ruin)
— so, in the same place he was deceived and betrayed himself
by the very person in whom he reposed most confidence (and
not altogether unjustly, if we reflect upon what has been said
before), both in regard to the constable and Nancy. But the
determination of such events depends only upon God ; and I
have given my opinion only to illustrate my proposition, that
a good prince ought never to consent to such a base and igno-
minious action, whatsoever plausible reasons may be urged in

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY 27

vindication of it ; for it often happens that those who give their
advice in such an affair do it either out of flattery, or fear of
contradicting their prince, though, when the thing is done, they
are heartily sorry for it, knowing how liable they are to be
punished in this world and the next ; however, such counsellors
as these are better far off, than near any prince.

Thus you have seen how God, the sole Governor of human
affairs, raised up the Count of Campobasso to be the instru-
ment of his vengeance in the case of the constable, in the same
place, and after the same manner, but with more circumstances
of cruelty ; for he betrayed the very person who had enter-
tained him in his service when he was old, poor, and friendless,
and had given him an annual sum of 10,000 ducats, with which
to pay his soldiers, beside other posts of great advantage.
And, when he first began his conspiracy he was on his journey
into Italy with 40,000 ducats to raise his regiment ; and yet, in
that very journey, he made overtures in two several places,
first, to a physician at Lyons, called Simon of Pavia, next, to
another person in Savoy, as you have already heard; and at
his return with his regiment, being quartered in certain small
towns in the county of Marie in Lannois, he fell to his old
practices, and offered to deliver up all the towns he held ; or, if
that were not sufficient, if the King would but face his master,
and pretend to give him battle, when they were drawn up, and
ready to engage, upon a signal to be agreed on between the
King and him, he would come over to him and join his Maj-
esty's army with the troops under his command ; but the King
was not pleased with this last overture by any means. He
offered, likewise, the first time his master lay in the field, either
to take him prisoner, or kill him, as he was reviewing his
army ; and indeed he might easily have done it ; for the duke's
custom was, as soon as he was alighted from his horse, at
the place where his army was to encamp, to pull off the rest
of his armor, and with his cuirass only, to mount upon a little
palfrey, and, attended only by eight or ten archers on foot, or
two or three gentlemen of his bedchamber, to ride about the
army, and see that it was strongly enclosed ; so that with a
small party of ten horse, the count might have performed this
execrable action without much difficulty.

The King, observing the restless rialice of this man against

28 COMMINES

his master, and that he was conspiring against him even during
the time of the truce between them, and being not well in-
formed of the object of these overtures, resolved upon showing
a singular piece of friendship and generosity to the Duke of
Burgundy, and sent him in writing, by the Lord of Contay
(whom I have so often mentioned in these " Memoirs "), the
whole progress of the count's conspiracy. I was present at the
delivery of the letters, and I am sure the Lord of Contay ac-
quitted himself faithfully to his master ; but the duke would give
no credit to his information, and said, that if there was any truth
in it, the King would never have communicated it. This was
long before the duke's arrival before Nancy, and I verily believe
he never took any notice of it to the count, for he continued his
old practices afterward.

But now to proceed with our principal subject. You must
know that the Duke of Burgundy besieged Nancy in the depth
of winter, with a small army which was ill-provided and ill-paid.
Several of his officers had entered into a conspiracy against
him, and there was a general mutiny among the common sol-
diers, who censured and despised all his enterprises ; which, as
I have observed at large before, is the common fate in times
of adversity ; but nobody practised against his person and do-
minions except the Count of Campobasso, for his subjects
were all loyal to him. The Duke of Burgundy being in this
miserable condition, the Duke of Lorraine treated with the old
and new allies ® (whom I have mentioned before) for a supply
of troops to enable him to give the duke battle, and raise the
siege of Nancy. They all readily consented, and every town
furnished him with a body of troops, so that now his only want
was money for their subsistence. The King by his ambassadors
in Switzerland encouraged him extremely in this enterprise,
and remitted him 400,000 francs to pay his Swiss : and the
Lord of Craon, the King's lieutenant in Champagne, was quar-
tered in Barrois with a body of 700 or 800 lances and frank-
archers, commanded by experienced officers. The Duke of Lor-
raine, by help of the King's favor and money, assembled a good
body of Swiss, both horse and foot ; for, beside the troops

• Oliver de la Marche (ii. 420) also money to obtain their assistance, that

states that " the Duke of Lorraine in- they might do to the Duke of Bur-

trigued with the Swiss to induce them gundy that which he did not dare to

to come to Nancy; and the King of undertake himself."
France secretly furnished him with

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY

that were in his own pay, they furnished him with some at their
own expense. He had also many French volunteers, and the
King's army (as you have already heard) was quartered in
Barrois, not with a design to commit any act of hostility, but
only to wait the issue of a battle, which was every day expected ;
for tlie Duke of Lorraine had marched with his Germans to St.
Nicholas," not far from Nancy.

The King of Portugal ^ had now been in France for nine
months or thereabouts ; for our King, being in an alliance
with him against the King of Castile,^ the King of Portugal
flattered himself that he would assist him with a powerful
army to make war upon his adversary on the side of Biscay
or Navarre, for he had several towns in Castile, upon the
frontiers of Portugal, and some upon our borders, as the Castle
of Burgos, and others ; so that I am of opinion, if our King
had assisted him, as he was sometimes inclined to do, the King
of Portugal might have succeeded in his designs ; but, by de-
grees, the King's mind changed, and the King of Portugal was
amused with fair words, and fed with hopes, for a year or more.

In the meantime the King of Portugal's affairs in Castile
began to decline : for, when he came into France, almost all
the nobility of Castile were in his interest ; but his long stay
in France tired their patience, and they began to grow weary,
and made their peace with Ferdinand and Isabella, who now
reign. The King of France indeed had promised to assist him,
but he excused himself afterward upon account of the war in
Lorraine, pretending that if the Duke of Burgundy prevailed,
he feared that he would afterward invade his dominions. The
King of Portugal, who was a very good and just prince, took a
fancy to pay a visit to the Duke of Burgundy, who was his
cousin-german,^ and to try whether his good offices could effect
a pacification between the King and the duke, supposing that
when this obstacle was removed, the King would certainly as-

i« On Saturday, January 4th, the Duke
of Lorraine arrived at St. Nicholas
with 10,500 Swiss." Molinet, i. 231. _

1 Alphonso V, surnamed the African,
was the son of Duarte I, King of Por-
tugal, and Eleanor of Arragon. He
was born in 1432, and succeeded his
father in 1438. He married his cousin
Isabella, the daughter of Don Pedro;
and he died on August 28, 1481. He was
the first King of Portugal who possessed
a private library.

* Ferdinand V, surnamed the Catho-
lic, was the son of John, King of Na-
varre and Arragon, and Juana Henri-
quez. He was born on Marcli :o, 1452,
and ascended the throne of Spain in
1474. His first wife was the celebrated
Isabella of Castile. He died on January
23, 1516-

3 The mother of Duke Charles, Isa-
bella of Portugal, was aunt to King Al-
phonso V.

COMMINES

sist him ; for he was ashamed to return into Portugal or Castile
without having been successful in his solicitations at our court,
especially after coming thither in so imprudent a manner, and
contrary to the opinion of the greatest part of his council.

With this design the King of Portugal began his journey
toward the latter end of the winter, and being arrived at the
Duke of Burgundy's camp before Nancy,* he began to discourse
with him about what the King had told him in relation to a
peace : but he found it would be no easy matter to accommodate
things between them, their demands ran so high ; and there-
fore he stayed but two days, before he took his leave of his
cousin, and returned to Paris, The Duke of Burgundy pressed
him to stay, and command the body of troops that were to
defend the pass at Pont-a-Mousson, near Nancy, for he had
received intelligence that the German army was posted at St.
Nicholas. The King of Portugal excused himself, by saying
that he was neither armed nor provided for such an enterprise ;
and upon this he returned to Paris, where he had resided so
long already. At last the King of Portugal grew suspicious
of the King of France, and fancied his Majesty had a design to
seize on him, and deliver him up to his enemy the King of
Castile. Upon the strength of this imagination he put himself
into a disguise and with two more in his company, resolved to
go to Rome and enter some religious house : but he was taken
in that disguise by a Norman called Robinet le Beuf ; ^ at which
our King was extremely concerned, and being ashamed of what
had passed, ordered several ships to be equipped on the coast of
Normandy, and gave the command of them to Master George
le Grec," with orders to conduct him safe into Portugal, which
he performed accordingly.

The occasion of his war against the King of Castile was in
favor of his sister's daughter,'^ which sister was wife to Don

* He arrived at the camp before Nan-
cy on December 29. Lenglet, ii. 221.

° Robinet le Beuf, a Norman knight,
from the neighborhood of Evreux, was
valet de chambre to Louis XI in 1466.
In 1471 he was appointed one of the gen-
tlemen of the King's household, and
held that office until 1488, when he was
killed in the battle of Saint-Aubin-du-
Cormier.

® In the letters of naturalization grant-
ed to this person by Louis XI in 1477,
he is designated as " George de Bici-
pat, surnamed the Greek, knight, na-

tive of Greece, captain of our great
ship and of our town and castle of
Touque, and our well-beloved and
trusty councillor and chamberlain."
Pierre de Lailly mentions him as
George Paleologo de Bicipat. In pre-
vious editions of Commines he is er-
roneously called George Leger.

' Juann, daughter of Henry IV, King
of Castile, and Juana, Infanta of Por-
tugal, was born in 1462. She was twice
betrothed, first to the Duke of Guienne,
and afterward to her uncle, Alphonso
V. On November 15, 1480, slie took the

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY

Henry, late King of Castile,^ and had a beautiful daughter still
living (but unmarried), in Portugal: but Queen Isabella,^ who
was sister to the said King Henry, disputed the young lady's
right of succession to the crown of Castile, pretending she was
illegitimate, and born in adultery. Many others were of the
same opinion, objecting impotence in King Henry, and proving
it by arguments, which for certain reasons I shall here omit.
However this may be, and though the young lady was born in
wedlock, and under the veil of marriage, yet the Crown of Cas-
tile was enjoyed by Queen Isabella of Castile, and her husband
the King of Arragon and Sicily, who now reigns. The King
of Portugal was very ambitious of making a match between his
niece and our King Charles VHI, who is now reigning; and
indeed that was the great design of his journey into France,
which turned so much to his disadvantage, for not long after
his return into Portugal he died. Wherefore (as I have already
observed in the beginning of these " Memoirs "), it highly con-
cerns a prince to be very careful in the choice of persons quali-
fied to be sent on embassies to foreign courts ; for if those am-
bassadors that came to our King from the King of Portugal
upon the above-mentioned proposal, at which I was present by
deputation from our King), had been as wise as they ought,
they would have informed themselves better of our affairs be-
fore they advised their master to undertake a journey which
proved so disadvantageous and dishonorable to him.

I could willingly have omitted this relation of the King of
Portugal's affairs, had it not been to show, that one prince
ought not rashly to put himself into the power of another, nor
go in person to solicit his own supplies. But to proceed with
my history : The King of Portugal had not left the Duke of
Burgundy's camp above a day, before the Duke of Lorraine and
his army of Germans broke up from St. Nicholas, and advanced
toward the Duke of Burgundy, with a resolution to give him
battle. The Count of Campobasso joined them that very day,
and carried off with him about eight score men at arms ; and
it grieved him much that he could do his master no greater
mischief. The garrison of Nancy had intelligence of his de-
vows in the convent of Santa Clara at II, and Isabella of Portugal, was born
Santarem, and she died at Alcacova in on April 23, 1451. In 1469 she married
1530- Ferdinand the Catholic, King of Arra-

* He died in 1474. gon, and she died on November 20,

° Isabella of Castile, daughter of Juan 1504.

COMMINES

sign, which in some measure encouraged them to hold out;
besides, another person ^° had got over the works, and assured
them of rehef, otherwise they were just upon surrendering, and
would have capitulated in a little time, had it not been for the
treachery of this count ; but God had determined to finish this
mystery.

The Duke of Burgundy, having intelligence of the approach
of the Duke of Lorraine's army, called a kind of council, con-
trary to his custom, for generally he followed his own will.
It was the opinion of most of his officers that his best way
would be to retire to Pont-a-Mousson, which was not far off,
and dispose his army in the towns about Nancy ; affirming,
that as soon as the Germans had thrown a supply of men and
provisions into Nancy, they would march off again ; and the
Duke of Lorraine being in great want of money, it would be
a great while before he would be able to assemble such an
army again ; and that their supplies of provisions could not be
so great but before half the winter was over, they would be
in the same straits as they were now ; and that in the meantime
the duke might raise more forces, and recruit himself ; for I
have been told by those who ought to know best, that the
Duke of Burgundy's army did not then consist of full 4,000
men/ and of that number not above 1,200 were in a condition
to fight. Money he did not want ; for in the Castle of Luxem-
bourg (which was not far off), there were in ready cash 450,000
crowns, which would have raised men enough. But God was
not so merciful to him as to permit him to take this wise
counsel, or discern the vast multitude of enemies who on
every side surrounded him. Therefore he chose the worst
plan, and like a rash and inconsiderate madman, resolved to try
his fortune, and engage the enemy with his weak and shattered
army,^ notwithstanding the Duke of Lorraine had a numerous
force of Germans, and the King's army was not far off.

" His name was Thierry, a draper in
the town of Mirecourt. Caimet, vii. 122.

* Oliver de la Marche (ii. 420) says
he had not 2,000 fighting men.

- Before the battle, says Molinet (i.
229), he inquired how many men there
were in his army. " The Count of
Chimay, a very eloquent, wise, and dis-
creet man, told him in gentle and ami-
able language, that the captains had
made inquiries, and that there were not
more than 3,000 men in a condition to

fight. ' I deny what you say,' replied
the duke, in great anger; ' but if [
were to fight alone I would fight all
the same. You are what you are, and
show clearly that you are sprung from
the house of Vaudemont.' The count
prudently and gently replied, that his
deeds should show that he was sprung
from an honorable line, and that, al-
though he saw no chance of overcom-
ing the enemy he would remain faith-
ful to the duke."

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY 33

As soon as the Count of Campobasso arrived in the Duke of
Lorraine's army, the Germans sent him word to leave the
camp immediately, for they would not entertain such traitors
among them. Upon which message he retired with his party
to Conde,^ a castle and pass * not far off, where he fortified
himself with carts and other things as well as he could, in
hopes, that if the Duke of Burgundy were routed, he might
have an opportunity of coming in for a share of the plunder,
as he did afterward. Nor was this practice with the Duke of
Lorraine the most execrable action that Campobasso was guilty
of ; but, before he left the army, he conspired with several other
officers (finding it was impracticable to attempt anything
against the Duke of Burgundy's person) to leave him just as
they came to the charge ; for, at that time, he supposed it
would put the army into the greatest terror and consternation ;
and if the duke fled, he was sure he could not escape alive,
for he had ordered thirteen or fourteen sure men, some to
run as soon as the Germans came up to charge them, and
others to watch the Duke of Burgundy, and kill him in the
rout; which was well enough contrived, for I myself have
seen two or three of those who were thus employed to kill the
duke. Having thus settled his conspiracy at home, he went
over to the Duke of Lorraine upon the approach of the German
army; but, finding they would not entertain him, he retired
to Conde, as I said before.

The German army marched forward, and with them a
considerable body of French horse, whom the King had given
leave to be present in that action. Several parties lay in
ambush not far off, that if the Duke of Burgundy were routed,
they might surprise some person of quality, or take some con-
siderable booty. By this every one may see into what a de-
plorable condition this poor duke had brought himself, by
his contempt of good counsel. Both armies being joined, the
Duke of Burgundy's forces, which had been twice beaten
before, and were weak and ill-provided besides, were quickly
broken and entirely defeated. Many saved themselves by
flight ; the rest were either taken or killed ; ^ and among them

3 Conde-Northen, or Contghen, in the = " In that battle were slain, among

arrondissement of Metz, and depart- others, the Lord of Bievre, the Lord

ment of Moselle. of Verun, and the Lord of Contay; and

* At the Pont de la Bussiere, half a among the prisoners were the Lord

league from Nancy. Molinet, i. 233. Anthony, Bastard of Burgundy, and his

COMMINES

the Duke of Burgundy himself was killed on the spot.® Not
having been in the battle myself, I will say nothing of the
manner of his death ; but I was told by some, that they saw
him beaten down, but, being prisoners themselves, were not
able to assist him ; yet, while they were in sight, he was not
killed, but a great body of men coming that way afterward,
they killed and stripped him in the throng, not knowing who
he was. This battle was fought on January 5, 1476, upon the
eve of Twelfth-day.

I saw a seal ring of his, after his death, at Milan, with his
arms cut curiously upon a sardonyx that I have often seen
him wear in a ribbon at his breast, which was sold at Milan
for two ducats, and had been stolen from him by a varlet
that waited on him in his chamber. I have often seen the
duke dressed and undressed in great state and formality, and
by very great persons ; but, at his last hour, all this pomp
and magnificence ceased, and both he and his family perished
(as you have heard already) on the very spot where he had
delivered up the constable not long before, out of a base and
avaricious motive ; but may God forgive him ! I have known
him a powerful and honorable prince, in as great esteem and
as much courted by his neighbors (when his afTairs were in
a prosperous condition), as any prince in Europe ; and perhaps
more so ; and I cannot conceive what should have provoked
God Almighty's displeasure so highly against him, unless it
was his self-love and arrogance, in attributing all the success
of his enterprises, and all the renown he ever acquired, to his
own wisdom and conduct, without ascribing anything to God :
yet, to speak truth, he was endowed with many good qualities.

No prince ever had a greater desire to entertain young

brother Baldwin; Philip de Croy,
Count of Chimay; the Count of Nas-
sau, and the Count of Challane; the
Lord Josse de Lalain, Sir Oliver
de la Marche, the Lord of Croy, the
eldest son of the Lord of Contay, the
eldest son of the Lord of Montagu, and
other noblemen." Molinet, i. 236.

* " The Duke of Burgundy was
knocked off his black horse, and fell
into a ditch near St. Jean." Lenglet,
iii. 493. " A knight named Claude de
Bausemont, came up with the Duke of
Burgundy, and gave him a lance thrust;
others then charged him suddenly, and
he was put to death in a meadow near
St. Jean." Calmet, vii. 133. "A page
came to the Duke of Lorraine, and be-

ing interrogated, declared plainly that
he had seen the Duke of Burgundy
thrown from his horse, and killed in a
certain place which he was ready to
point out. On the following morning
the page, with many notable person-
ages, went to the field, and found the
body of the Duke of Burgundy quite
naked, lying on the ground among
other corpses; and he had received three
mortal wounds, one in the head from
a halberd, which clove his skull in two,
another with a pike in the groin, and a
third in the buttock." Molinet, i. 234.
By order of the Duke of Lorraine, the
body was buried with great magnifi-
cence in St. George's Church at Nancy.

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY 35

noblemen than he ; or was more careful of their education.
His presents and bounty were never profuse and extravagant,
because he gave to many, and wished everybody should taste
of his generosity. No prince was ever more easy of access
to his servants and subjects. While I was in his service he
was never cruel, but a little before his death he became so,
which was an infallible sign of the shortness of his life. He
was very splendid and pompous in his dress, and in everything
else, and indeed a little too much. He paid great honors to
all ambassadors and foreigners, and entertained them nobly.
His ambitious desire of glory was insatiable, and it was that
which more than any other motive induced him to engage
eternally in wars. He earnestly desired to imitate the old
kings and heroes of antiquity, who are still so much talked
of in the world, and his courage was equal to that of any prince
of his time.

But all his designs and imaginations were vain, and turned
afterward to his own dishonor and confusion, for it is the
conquerors and not the conquered that win renown. I can-
not easily determine toward whom God Almighty showed his
anger most, whether toward him who died suddenly, without
pain or sickness in the field of battle, or toward his subjects,
who never enjoyed peace after his death, but were continually
involved in wars against which they were not able to maintain
themselves, upon account of the civil dissensions and cruel
animosities that arose among them; and that which was the
most insupportable was, that the very people to w^hom they
were now indebted for their defence and preservation, were
the Germans, who were strangers, and not long since had been
their enemies. In short, after the duke's death, there was not
a man who wished them to prosper, whoever defended them.
And by the management of their afifairs, their understanding
seemed to be as much infatuated as their master's was just
before his death; for they rejected all good counsel, and pur-
sued such methods as directly tended to their destruction;
and they are still in great danger of a relapse into calamity,
and it will be well if it turn not in the end to their utter
ruin.

I am partly of the opinion of those who maintain that God
gives princes, as he in his wisdom thinks fit, to punish or chas-

:^6 COMMINES

tise their subjects; and he disposes the affections of subjects
to their princes, as he has determined to exalt or depress them.
Just so it has pleased him to deal with the house of Burgundy ;
for after a long series of riches and prosperity and six score
years' ^ peace under three illustrious princes, predecessors to
Duke Charles (all of them of great prudence and discretion),
it pleased God to send this Duke Charles, who continually
involved them in bloody wars, as well winter as summer, to
their great affliction and expense, in which most of their richest
and stoutest men were either killed or taken prisoners. Their
misfortunes began at the siege of Nuz, and continued for three
or four battles successively, to the very hour of his death ;
so much so, that at the last, the whole strength of the country
was destroyed, and all were killed or taken prisoners who
had any zeal or affection for the house of Burgundy, or power
to defend the state and dignity of that family ; so that in a
manner their losses equalled, if they did not overbalance, their
former prosperity ; for as I had seen these princes puissant,
rich, and honorable, so it fared with their subjects : for I think I
have seen and known the greatest part of Europe, yet I never
knew any province or country, though of a larger extent, so
abounding in money,^ so extravagantly fine in their furniture,
so sumptuous in their buildings, so profuse in their expenses,
so luxurious in their feasts and entertainments, and so prodigal
in all respects, as the subjects of these princes in my time;
and if any think I have exaggerated, others who lived in my
time will be of opinion that I have rather said too little.

But it pleased God, at one blow, to subvert this great and
sumptuous edifice, and ruin this powerful and illustrious fam-
ily, which had maintained and bred up so many brave men,
and had acquired such mighty honor and renown far and
near, by so many victories and successful enterprises, as none
of all its neighboring States could pretend to boast of. A
hundred and twenty years it continued in this flourishing
condition, by the grace of God ; all its neighbors having, in the
meantime, been involved in troubles and commotions, and

' A hundred and four years only, as tapestries, splendid jewels, gold plate

Philip the Bold was created Duke of adorned with precious stones, and his

Burgundy in 1363, and Philip the Good large and valuable library; beside

died in 1467. which, he died worth 2,000,000 gold

* " Philip the Good left his son 400,- pieces in furniture alone." Oliver de

000 crowns of gold in cash, 72,000 marks fa Marche, ii. 267.
of silver in plate, itot to mention rich

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY

all of them applying to it for succor or protection: to wit,
France, England, and Spain, as you have seen by experience
of our master the King of France, who in his minority, and
during the reign of Charles VII, his father, retired to this
court, where he lived six years, and was nobly entertained all
that time by Duke Philip the Good. Out of England I saw
there also two of King Edward's brothers, the Dukes of
Clarence and Gloucester (the last of whom was afterward
called King Richard III) ; and of the house of Lancaster, the
whole family or very near, with all their party. In short, I
have seen this family, in all respects the most flourishing and
celebrated of any in Christendom : and then, in a short space
of time, it was quite ruined and turned upside down, and left
the most desolate and miserable of any house in Europe as
regards both prince and subjects. Such changes and revolu-
tions of States and kingdoms, God in his providence has
wrought before we were born, and will do again when we
are dead ; for this is a certain maxim, that the prosperity or
adversity of princes depends wholly on his divine disposal.

But to proceed with my history. The King having estab-
lished posts ^ in all parts of his kingdom (which before never
had been done), it was not long ere he received the news
of the Duke of Burgundy's defeat ; and he was in hourly
expectation of the report, for letters of advice had reached
him before, importing, that the German army was advancing
toward the Duke of Burgundy's and that a battle was expected
between them. Upon which many persons kept their ears
open for the news, in order to carry it to the King. For his
custom was to reward liberally any person who brought him
the first tidings of any news of importance, and to remember
the messenger beside. His Majesty also took great delight
in talking of it before it arrived, and would say : " I will
give so much to any man who first brings me such and such
news." The Lord du Bouchage and I being together, hap-
pened to receive the first news of the battle of Morat, and we
went with it to the King, who gave each of us 200 marks of
silver. The Lord du Lude, who lay without the Plessis, had
the first news of the arrival of the courier, with the letters

" The ordinance instituting this postal cheux) near Doullens, on June 19, 1464.
service is dated at Luxies (now Lu- Duclos, v. 220.

COMMINES

concerning the battle of Nancy; he commanded the courier
to dehver him the packet, and as he was a great favorite of
the King's he durst not refuse him. By break of day the
next morning, the Lord du Lude knocked at the door next
to the King's chamber, and it being opened, he dehvered in
the packet from the Lord of Craon and other officers. But
none of the first letters gave any certainty of the duke's death ;
they only stated that he was seen to run away, and that it
was supposed he had made his escape.

The King was at first so transported with joy at the news,
he scarce knew how to behave himself : however, his Majesty
was still in some perplexity. On one hand, he was afraid
that if the duke should be taken prisoner by the Germans,
by means of his money, of which he had great store, he would
make some composition with them. On the other, he was
doubtful, if the duke had made his escape, though defeated
for the third time, whether he should seize upon his towns in
Burgundy or not; ^° which he judged not very difficult to do,
since most of the brave men of that country had been slain
in those three battles. As to this last point, he came to this
resolution (which I believe few were acquainted with but my-
self), that if the duke w-ere alive and well, he would command
the army which lay ready in Champagne and Barrois to march
immediately into Burgundy, and seize upon the whole country
while it was in that state of terror and consternation; and
when he was in possession of it, he would inform the duke
that the seizures he had made was only to preserve it for him,
and secure it against the Germans, because it was held under
the sovereignty of the Crown of France, and therefore he was
unwilling it should fall into their hands; and whatever he
had taken should be faithfully restored: and truly, I am of

** The King's first design was to seize
them, as is proved by the subioined
letter, addressed to the Lord of Craon:
" My Lord Count, my Friend— I have
received your letters, and heard the
good news which you tell me, for which
I thank_ you as much as I am able.
Now it is time to employ all your five
senses so as to get the duchy and
county of Burgundy into my hands;
and with that view, with your band and
the Governor of Champagne (if the
Duke of Burgundy is really dead)
throw yourself into that country, and
as you love me, take care that your
men of war keep as good order as if

you were in Paris, and tell them that I
wish to treat them and keep them bet-
ter than any of my own kingdom; and
that with regard to our god-daughter,
I intend to complete the marriage
which I have already negotiated be-
tween the dauphin and her. My lord
count, I do not intend that you should
enter the country or mention what I
have stated above, unless the Duke of
Burgundy is dead; and in that case, I
beg you to serve me according to the
confidence T have in you. Farewell.
Written at Plessis du Pare, on the ninth
of Januarj'. Signed Louis, and counter-
signed De Chaumont." Molinet, ii. 2.

THE FALL OF BURGUNDY 39

opinion his Majesty would have done it, though many people
who are ignorant of the motives that guided the King, will
not easily believe it. But this resolution was altered as soon
as he was certain of the Duke of Burgundy's death.

Upon the King's receiving the above-mentioned first letter,
(which gave no account of the duke's death), he immediately
sent to Tours, to summon all his captains and other great
personages to attend him. Upon their arrival, he communi-
cated his letters to them. They all pretended great joy; but
to such as more narrowly observed their behavior, it was
easily to be discerned that most of them did but feign it ; and,
notwithstanding all their outward dissimulation, they had been
better pleased if the Duke of Burgundy had been successful.
The reason of this might be, because the King was greatly
feared, and now if he should find himself clear and secure from
his enemies, they were afraid they would be reduced, or at
least their offices and pensions retrenched ; for there were sev-
eral present who had been engaged against him with his brother
the Duke of Guienne, in the confederacy called the Public
Good. After his Majesty had discoursed with them for some
time, he went to mass, and then ordered dinner to be laid in
his chamber, and made them all dine with him; there being
with him his chancellor : ^ and some other lords of his council.
The King's discourse at dinner-time was about this afifair,
and I well remember that myself and others took particular
notice how those who were present dined ; but to speak truth
(whether for joy or sorrow, I cannot tell), there was not one
of them that half filled his belly ; and certainly it could not have
been from modesty or bashfulness before the King, for there
was not one among them but had dined with his Majesty many
times before.

As soon as the King rose from table, he retired, and
distributed to some persons certain lands belonging to the
Duke of Burgundy, as though he had been dead. He de-
spatched the Bastard of Bourbon, Admiral of France, and my-
self, into those parts, with full power to receive the homage
of all such as were willing to submit and become his subjects.
He ordered us to set out immediately, and gave us commission
to open all his letters and packets which we might meet by

» Pierre d'OriolIe.

40 COMMINES

the way, that thereby we might ascertain whether the duke
was dead or aHve. We departed with all speed, though it
was the coldest weather I ever felt in my life. We had not
ridden above half a day's journey, when we met a courier,
and commanding him to deliver his letters, we learned by
them that the Duke of Burgundy was slain, and that his body
had been found among the dead, and recognized by an Italian
page that attended him, and by one M. Louppe, a Portuguese,^
who was his physician, and who assured the Lord of Craon that
it was the duke his master, and the Lord of Craon notified the
same at once to the King.

* In the list of the duke's household, " Memoirs " speaks of him as " a Span-

this physician is named Master Lope iard, named Don Diego;" other au-

de la Garde. With reference to the thorities state that he was an Italian,

page, one of the manuscripts of these of the house of Colonna.

TURBULENT TIMES AT COURT

arguerite tie l^aloi^

MARGUERITE DE VALOIS
1552 — 1615

Marguerite de Valois, daughter of Henri II of France, and first wife
of the celebrated Henri IV, the victor of Ivry, was born in 1552, divorced
from Henri IV in 1598, and died in 161 5. She is sometimes confounded
with that other Margaret of Valois, the grandmother of Henri IV, who
wrote the celebrated " Heptameron des Nouvelles," modelled on Boccac-
cio's "Decameron." Before the assassination of Henri III by the Do-
minican monk Clement, an event which paved the way for the accession
of Henry of Navarre to the throne of France as Henri IV, Marguerite
was given in marriage, for state reasons, to the new monarch. Her mar-
ried life was on the whole unhappy, Henri's amours and his fondness
for the children of his mistresses being a continual source of bitterness to
her. She was fated to undergo hatred and suspicion at the hands of
both Protestants and Catholics, due probably to the undecided attitude
she took on the religious questions that vexed the time.

"The Memoirs of Marguerite de Valois" appeared first in 1628, thir-
teen years after the death of their witty and beautiful author. They
contain many particulars of Marguerite's life, many anecdotes hitherto
unknown, and the secret history of the Court of France during the event-
ful years comprised in the period i565-'82, including the massacre of
Saint Bartholomew, the formation of the League, and the peace of Sens,
and an account of the religious struggles which were then raging so
bitterly. After the dissolution of her marriage with Henri IV, at which
time she was forty-five years of age, she retired, whether under compul-
sion is not certain, to the castle of Ucson, built on a mountain near the
little town of that name in Auvergne, and the " Memoirs " appear to have
been composed in that retreat, though little of this period of her life is
known. Brantome, in his memoirs of his own time, has given us anec-
dotes of Marguerite during this quiet evening of her life, and, if we may
believe him, the divorced queen's hours were spent in great part in read-
ing, poetry, and music. From what Brantome and Ronsard say con-
cerning Marguerite's personal appearance we gather that she was grace-
ful in person and figure, happy in her choice of dress, and majestic in
appearance. To personal charm she added wit and affability, and from
a letter extant, addressed by her to Brantome, it seems that she bore
herself in her enforced retreat with a spirit of genuine piety and resigna-
tion.

TURBULENT TIMES AT COURT

IT was now three o'clock in the afternoon, and no one pres-
ent had yet dined. The Queen my mother was desirous
that we should eat together, and, after dinner, she ordered
my brother and me to change our dress (as the clothes we had
on were suitable only to our late melancholy situation) and
come to the King's supper and ball. We complied with her
orders as far as a change of dress, but our countenances still
retained the impressions of grief and resentment which we
inwardly felt.

I must inform you that when the tragi-comedy I have given
you an account of was over, the Queen my mother turned round
to the Chevalier de Seurre, whom she recommended to my
brother to sleep in his bedchamber, and in whose conversation
she sometimes took delight because he was a man of some
humor, but rather inclined to be cynical.

" Well," said she, " M. de Seurre, what do you think of all
this?"

" Madame, I think there is too much of it for earnest, and
not enough for jest."

Then addressing himself to me, he said, but not loud enough
for the Queen to hear him : " I do not believe all is over yet ;
I am very much mistaken if this young man " (meaning my
brother) " rests satisfied with this."

This day having passed in the manner before related, the
wound being only skinned over and far from healed, the young-
men about the King's person set themselves to operate in order
to break it out afresh.

These persons, judging of my brother by themselves, and
not having sufficient experience to know the power of duty
over the minds of personages of exalted rank and high birth,
persuaded the King, still connecting his case with their own,

44 MARGUERITE DE VALOIS

that it was impossible my brother should ever forgive the
affront he had received, and not seek to avenge himself with
the first opportunity. The King, forgetting the ill-judged steps
these young men had so lately induced him to take, here-
upon receives this new impression, and gives orders to the
ofificers of the guard to keep strict watch at the gates that his
brother go not out, and that his people be made to leave the
Louvre every evening, except such of them as usually slept
in his bedchamber or wardrobe.

My brother, seeing himself thus exposed to the caprices of
these headstrong young fellows, who led the King according
to their own fancies, and fearing something worse might hap-
pen than what he had yet experienced, at the end of three
days, during which time he labored under apprehensions of
this kind, came to a determination to leave the court, and never
more return to it, but retire to his principality and make prepa-
rations with all haste for his expedition to Flanders.

He communicated his design to me, and I approved of it,
as I considered he had no other view in it than providing for
his own safety, and that neither the King nor his government
were likely to sustain any injury by it.

When we consulted upon the means of its accomplishment,
we could find no other than his descending from my window,
which was on the second story and opened to the ditch, for
the gates were so closely watched that it was impossible to
pass them, the face of everyone going out of the Louvre
being curiously examined. He begged of me, therefore, to
procure for him a rope of sufficient strength and long enough
for the purpose. This I set about immediately, for, having
the sacking of a bed that wanted mending, I sent it out of the
palace by a lad whom I could trust, with orders to bring it
back repaired, and to wrap up the proper length of rope inside.

When all was prepared, one evening, at supper-time, I went
to the Queen my mother, who supped alone in her own apart-
ment, it being fast-day and the King eating no supper. My
brother, who on most occasions was patient and discreet,
spurred on by the indignities he had received, and anxious to
extricate himself from danger and regain his liberty, came to
me as I was rising from table, and whispered to me to make
haste and come to him in my own apartment. M. de Matignon,

TURBULENT TIMES AT COURT 45

at that time a marshal, a sly, cunning Norman, and one who
had no love for my brother, whether he had some knowledge
of his design from someone who could not keep a secret, or
only guessed at it, observed to the Queen my mother as she
left the room (which I overheard, being near her, and circum-
spectly watching every word and motion, as may well be im-
agined, situated as I was betwixt fear and hope, and involved in
perplexity) that my brother had undoubtedly an intention of
withdrawing himself, and would not be there the next day ;
adding that he was assured of it, and she might take her meas-
ures accordingly.

I observed that she was much disconcerted by this observa-
tion, and I had my fears lest we should be discovered. When
we came into her closet, she drew me aside and asked if I heard
what Matignon had said.

I replied : " I did not hear it, madame, but I observe that it
has given you uneasiness."

" Yes," said she, " a great deal of uneasiness, for you know
I have pledged myself to the King that your brother shall not
depart hence, and Matignon has declared that he knows very
well he will not be here to-morrow."

I now found myself under a great embarrassment ; I was in
danger either of proving unfaithful to my brother, and thereby
bringing his life into jeopardy, or of being obliged to declare
that to be truth which I knew to be false, and this I would have
died rather than be guilty of.

In this extremity, if I had not been aided by God, my coun-
tenance, without speaking, would plainly have discovered what
I wished to conceal. But God, who assists those who mean
well, and whose divine goodness was discoverable in my broth-
er's escape, enabled me to compose my looks and suggested to
me such a reply as gave her to understand no more than I
wished her to know, and cleared my conscience from making
any declaration contrary to the truth. I answered her in these
words :

" You cannot, madame, but be sensible that M. de Matignon
is not one of my brother's friends, and that he is, besides, a
busy, meddling kind of man, who is sorry to find a reconciliation
has taken place with us ; and, as to my brother, I will answer
for him with my life in case he goes hence, of which, if he had

46 MARGUERITE DE VALOIS

any design, I should, as I am well assured, not be ignorant, he
never having yet concealed anything he meant to do from me."

All this was said by me with the assurance that, after my
brother's escape, they would not dare to do me any injury ; and
in case of the worst, and when we should be discovered, I had
much rather pledge my life than hazard my soul by a false
declaration, and endanger my brother's life. Without scrutiniz-
ing the import of my speech, she replied : " Remember what
you now say — you will be bound for him on the penalty of your
life."

I smiled and answered that such was my intention. Then,
wishing her a good-night, I retired to my own bedchamber,
where, undressing myself in haste and getting into bed, in
order to dismiss the ladies and maids of honor, and there then
remaining only my chamber-women, my brother came in, ac-
companied by Simier and Cange. Rising from my bed, we
made the cord fast, and having looked out at the window to
discover if anyone was in the ditch, with the assistance of
three of my women, who slept in my room, and the lad who
had brought in the rope, we let down my brother, who laughed
and joked upon the occasion without the least apprehension,
notwithstanding the height was considerable. We next low-
ered Simier into the ditch, who was in such a fright that he had
scarcely strength to hold the rope fast ; and lastly descended my
brother's valet de chambre, Cange.

Through God's providence my brother got off undiscovered,
and going to Ste. Genevieve, he found Bussi waiting there for
him. By consent of the abbot, a hole had been made in the
city wall, through which they passed, and horses being provided
and in waiting, they mounted, and reached Angers without the
least accident.

While we were lowering down Cange, who, as I mentioned
before, was the last, we observed a man rising out of the ditch,
who ran toward the lodge adjoining to the tennis-court, in the
direct way leading to the guard-house. I had no apprehensions
on my own account, all my fears being absorbed by those I
entertained for my brother; and now I was almost dead with
alarm, supposing this might be a spy placed there by M. de
Matignon, and that my brother would be taken. While I was
in this cruel state of anxiety, which can be judged of only by

TURBULENT TIMES AT COURT 47

those who have experienced a similar situation, my women took
a precaution for my safety and their own, which did not sug-
gest itself to me. This was to burn the rope, that it might not
appear to our conviction in case the man in question had been
placed there to watch us. This rope occasioned so great a flame
in burning, that it set fire to the chimney, which, being seen
from without, alarmed the guard, who ran to us, knocking vio-
lently at the door, calling for it to be opened.

I now concluded that my brother was stopped, and that we
were both undone. However, as, by the blessing of God and
through his divine mercy alone, I have, amid every danger
with which I have been repeatedly surrounded, constantly pre-
served a presence of mind which directed what was best to be
done, and observing that the rope was not more than half
consumed, I told my women to go to the door, and speaking
softly, as if I was asleep, to ask the men what they wanted.
They did so, and the archers replied that the chimney was on
fire, and they came to extinguish it. My women answered it
was of no consequence, and they could put it out themselves,
begging them not to awake me. This alarm thus passed off
quietly, and they went away ; but, in two hours afterward, M.
de Cosse came for me to go to the King and the Queen my
mother to give an account of my brother's escape, of which
they had received intelligence by the Abbot of Ste. Genevieve.

It seems it had been concerted betwixt my brother and the
abbot, in order to prevent the latter from falling under disgrace,
that, when my brother might be supposed to have reached a
sufficient distance, the abbot should go to court, and say that he
had been put into confinement while the hole was being made,
and that he came to inform the King as soon as he had released
himself.

I was in bed, for it was yet night ; and rising hastily, I put
on my night-clothes. One of my women was indiscreet enough
to hold me round the waist, and exclaim aloud, shedding a flood
of tears, that she should never see me more. M. de Cosse,
pushing her away, said to me : " If I were not a person thor-
oughly devoted to your service, this woman has said enough to
bring you into trouble. But," continued he, " fear nothing.
God be praised, by this time the prince your brother is out of
danger."

48 MARGUERITE DE VALOIS

These words were very necessary, in the present state of my
mind, to fortify it against the reproaches and threats I had
reason to expect from the King. I found him sitting at the foot
of the Queen my mother's bed, in such a violent rage that I
am inchned to beheve I should have felt the effects of it, had
he not been restrained by the absence of my brother and my
mother's presence. They both told me that I had assured them
my brother would not leave the court, and that I pledged myself
for his stay. I replied that it was true that he had deceived
me, as he had them ; however, I was ready still to pledge my
life that his departure would not operate to the prejudice of
the King's service, and that it would appear he was only gone
to his own principality to give orders and forward his expedi-
tion to Flanders.

The King appeared to be somewhat mollified by this dec-
laration, and now gave me permission to return to my own
apartments. Soon afterward he received letters from my
brother, containing assurances of his attachment, in the terms
I had before expressed. This caused a cessation of complaints,
but by no means removed the King's dissatisfaction, who made
a show of affording assistance to his expedition, but was secretly
using every means to frustrate and defeat it.

I now renewed my application for leave to go to the King my
husband, which I continued to press on every opportunity.
The King, perceiving that he could not refuse my leave any
longer, was willing I should depart satisfied. He had this fur-
ther view in complying with my wishes, that by this means he
should withdraw me from my attachment to my brother. He
therefore strove to oblige me in every w^ay he could think of,
and, to fulfil the promise made by the Queen my mother at
the Peace of Sens, he gave me an assignment of my portion in
territory, with the power of nomination to all vacant benefices
and all offices ; and, over and above the customary pension to
the daughters of France, he gave another out of his privy purse.

He daily paid me a visit in my apartment, in which he took
occasion to represent to me how useful his friendship would
be to me ; whereas that of my brother could be only injuri-
ous— with arguments of the like kind.

However, all he could say was insufficient to prevail on me
to swerve from the fidelity I had vowed to observe to my

TURBULENT TIMES AT COURT 49

brother. The King was able to draw from me no other declara-
tion than this : that it ever was, and should be, my earnest wish
to see my brother firmly established in his gracious favor,
which he had never appeared to me to have forfeited ; that I
was well assured he would exert himself to the utmost to regain
it by every act of duty and meritorious service ; that, with re-
spect to myself, I thought I was so much obliged to him for the
great honor he did me by repeated acts of generosity, that he
might be assured, when I was with the King my husband I
should consider myself bound in duty to obey all such com-
mands as he should be pleased to give me ; and that it would
be my whole study to maintain the King my husband in a sub-
mission to his pleasure.

My brother was now on the point of leaving Alengon to go
to Flanders ; the Queen my mother was desirous to see him
before his departure. I begged the King to permit me to
take the opportunity of accompanying her to take leave of my
brother, which he granted ; but, as it seemed, with great un-
willingness. When we returned from Alengon, I solicited the
King to permit me to take leave of himself, as I had everything
prepared for my journey. The Queen my mother being de-
sirous to go to Gascony, where her presence was necessary for
the King's service, was unwilling that I should depart without
her. When we left Paris, the King accompanied us on the
way as far as his palace of Dolinville. There we stayed with
him a few days, and there we took our leave, and in a little
time reached Guienne, which belonging to, and being under the
government of the King my husband, I was everywhere re-
ceived as Queen. My husband gave the Queen my mother a
meeting at Reolle, which was held by the Huguenots as a cau-
tionary town ; and the country not being sufficiently quieted,
she was permitted to go no further.

It was the intention of the Queen my mother to make but a
short stay ; but so many accidents arose from disputes betwixt
the Huguenots and Catholics, that she was under the necessity
of stopping there eighteen months. As this was very much
against her inclination, she was sometimes inclined to think
there was a design to keep her, in order to have the company of
her maids of honor. For my husband had been greatly smit-
ten with Dayelle, and M. de Thurene was in love with La
4

MARGUERITE DE VALOIS

Vergne. However, I received every mark of honor and atten-
tion from the King that I could expect or desire. He related
to me, as soon as we met, the artifices which had been put in
practice while he remained at court to create a misunderstand-
ing betwixt him and me ; all this, he said, he knew was with a
design to cause a rupture betwixt my brother and him, and
thereby ruin us all three, as there was an exceeding great jeal-
ousy entertained of the friendship which existed betwixt us.

We remained in the disagreeable situation I have before de-
scribed all the time the Queen my mother stayed in Gascony ;
but, as soon as she could re-establish peace, she, by desire of the
King my husband, removed the King's lieutenant, the Marquis
de Villars, putting in his place the Marechal de Biron. She
then departed for Languedoc, and we conducted her to Castel-
naudary ; where, taking our leave, we returned to Pau,in Beam ;
in which place, the Catholic religion not being tolerated, I was
only allowed to have mass celebrated in a chapel of about three
or four feet in length, and so narrow that it could scarcely hold
seven or eight persons. During the celebration of mass, the
bridge of the castle was drawn up to prevent the Catholics of
the town and country from coming to assist at it ; who having
been, for some years, deprived of the benefit of following their
own mode of worship, would have gladly been present. Actu-
ated by so holy and laudable a desire, some of the inhabitants of
Pau, on Whitsunday, found means to get into the castle before
the bridge was drawn up, and were present at the celebration
of mass, not being discovered until it was nearly over. At
length the Huguenots espied them, and ran to acquaint Le
Pin, secretary to the King my husband, who was gready in his
favor, and who conducted the whole business relating to the
new religion. Upon receiving this intelligence, Le Pin ordered
the guard to arrest these poor people, who were severely beaten
in my presence, and afterward locked up in prison, whence they
were not released without paying a considerable fine.

This indignity gave me great offence, as I never expected
anything of the kind. Accordingly, I complained of it to the
King my husband, begging him to give orders for the release
of these poor Catholics, who did not deserve to be punished
for coming to my chapel to hear mass, a celebration of which
they had been so long deprived of the benefit. Le Pin, with

TURBULENT TIMES AT COURT 51

the greatest disrespect to his master, took upon him to reply,
without waiting- to hear what the King had to say. He told me
that I ought not to trouble the King my husband about such
matters ; that what had been done was very right and proper ;
that those people had justly merited the treatment they met
with, and all I could say would go for nothing, for it must be
so ; and that I ought to rest satisfied with being permitted to
have mass said to me and my servants. This insolent speech
from a person of his inferior condition incensed me greatly, and
I entreated the King my husband, if I had the least share in
his good graces, to do me justice, and avenge the insult ofifered
me by this low man.

The King my husband, perceiving that I was offended, as
I had reason to be, with this gross indignity, ordered Le Pin
to quit our presence immediately ; and, expressing his concern
at his secretary's behavior, who, he said, was overzealous in
the cause of religion, he promised that he would make an ex-
ample of him. As to the Catholic prisoners, he said he would
advise with his Parliament what ought to be done for my satis-
faction.

Having said this, he went to his closet, where he found Le
Pin, who, by dint of persuasion, made him change his resolu-
tion ; insomuch that, fearing I should insist upon his dismissing
his secretary, he avoided meeting me. At last, finding that I
was firmly resolved to leave him, unless he dismissed Le Pin,
he took advice of some persons, who, having themselves a dis-
like to the secretary, represented that he ought not to give me
cause of displeasure for the sake of a man of his small impor-
tance— especially one who, like him, had given me just reason
to be ofifended ; that, when it became known to the King my
brother and the Queen my mother, they would certainly take it
ill that he had not only not resented it, but, on the contrary, still
kept him near his person.

This counsel prevailed with him, and he at length discarded
his secretary. The King, however, continued to behave to me
with great coolness, being influenced, as he afterward confessed,
by the counsel of M. de Pibrac, who acted the part of a double-
dealer, telling me that I ought not to pardon an affront ofifered
by such a mean fellow, but insist upon his being dismissed ;
while he persuaded the King my husband that there was no

52 MARGUERITE DE VALOIS

reason for parting with a man so useful to him, for such a trivial
cause. This was done by M. de Pibrac, thinking I might be
induced, from such mortifications, to return to France, where
he enjoyed the offices of president and King's counsellor.

I now met with a fresh cause for disquietude in my present
situation, for, Dayelle being gone, the King my husband placed
his affections on Rebours. She was an artful young person,
and had no regard for me ; accordingly, she did me all the ill
offices in her power with him. In the midst of these trials, I
put my trust in God, and he, moved with pity by my tears,
gave permission for our leaving Pau, that " little Geneva " ;
and, fortunately for me, Rebours was taken ill and stayed be-
hind. The King my husband no sooner lost sight of her than
he forgot her ; he now turned his eyes and attention toward
Fosseuse. She was much handsomer than the other, and was
at that time young, and really a very amiable person.

Pursuing the road to Montauban, we stopped at a little
town called Eause, where, in the night, the King my husband
was attacked with a high fever, accompanied with most violent
pains in his head. This fever lasted for seventeen days, during
which time he had no rest night or day, but was continually re-
moved from one bed to another. I nursed him the whole time,
never stirring from his bedside, and never putting off my
clothes. He took notice of my extraordinary tenderness, and
spoke of it to several persons, and particularly to my cousin

M , who, acting the part of an affectionate relation, restored

me to his favor, insomuch that I never stood so highly in it
before. This happiness I had the good fortune to enjoy during
the four or five years that I remained with him in Gascony.

Our residence, for the most part of the time I have mentioned,
was at Nerac, where our court was so brilliant that we had no
cause to regret our absence from the Court of France, We
had with us the Princesse de Navarre, my husband's sister, since
married to the Due de Bar; there were beside a number of
ladies belonging to myself. The King my husband was at-
tended by a numerous body of lords and gentlemen, all as
gallant persons as I have seen in any court ; and we had only
to lament that they were Huguenots. This difference of relig-
ion, however, caused no dispute among us ; the King my hus-
band and the princess his sister heard a sermon, while I and my

TURBULENT TIMES AT COURT 53

servants heard mass. I had a chapel in the park for the pur-
pose, and, as soon as the service of both rehgions was over, we
joined company in a beautiful garden, ornamented with long
walks shaded with laurel and cypress trees. Sometimes we
took a walk in the park on the banks of the river, bordered by
an avenue of trees 3,000 yards in length. The rest of the day
was passed in innocent amusements ; and in the afternoon, or
at night, we commonly had a ball.

The King was very assiduous with Fosseuse, who, being
dependent on me, kept herself within the strict bounds of honor
and virtue. Had she always done so, she had not brought upon
herself a misfortune which has proved of such fatal consequence
to myself as well as to her.

But our happiness was too great to be of long continuance,
and fresh troubles broke out betwixt the King my husband
and the Catholics, and gave rise to a new war. The King
my husband and the Marechal de Biron, who was the King's
lieutenant in Guienne, had a difference, which was aggravated
by the Huguenots. This breach became in a short time so wide
that all my efforts to close it were useless. They made their
separate complaints to the King. The King my husband in-
sisted on the removal of the Marechal de Biron, and the marshal
charged the King my husband, and the rest of those who were
of the pretended reformed religion, with designs contrary to
peace. I saw, with great concern, that affairs were likely soon
to come to an open rupture ; and I had no power to prevent it.

The marshal advised the King to come to Guienne himself,
saying that in his presence matters might be settled. The
Huguenots, hearing of this proposal, supposed the King would
take possession of their towns, and, thereupon, came to a reso-
lution to take up arms. This was what I feared ; I was become
a sharer in the King my husband's fortune, and was now to
be in opposition to the King my brother and the religion I
had been bred up in. I gave my opinion upon this war to
the King my husband and his council, and strove to dissuade
them from engaging in it. I represented to them the hazards
of carrying on a war when they were to be opposed against
so able a general as the Marechal de Biron, who would not
spare them, as other generals had done, he being their private
enemy. I begged them to consider that, if the King brought

54 MARGUERITE DE VALOIS

his whole force against them, with intention to exterminate
their rehgion, it would not be in their power to oppose or
prevent it. But they were so headstrong, and so blinded with
the hope of succeeding in the surprise of certain towns in
Languedoc and Gascony, that, though the King did me the
honor, upon all occasions, to listen to my advice, as did most
of the Huguenots, yet I could not prevail on them to follow
it in the present situation of affairs, until it was too late, and
after they had found, to their cost, that my counsel was good.
The torrent was now burst forth, and there was no possibility
of stopping its course until it had spent its utmost strength.

Before that period arrived, foreseeing the consequences, I
had often written to the King and the Queen my mother, to
offer something to the King my husband by way of accommo-
dating matters. But they were bent against it, and seemed to
be pleased that matters had taken such a turn, being assured
by Marechal de Biron that he had it in his power to crush
the Huguenots whenever he pleased. In this crisis my advice
was not attended to, the dissensions increased, and recourse
was had to arms.

The Huguenots had reckoned upon a force more consider-
able than they were able to collect together, and the King
my husband found himself outnumbered by Marechal de Biron.
In consequence, those of the pretended reformed religion failed
in all their plans, except their attack upon Cahors, which they
took with petards, after having lost a great number of men — M.
de Vezins, who commanded in the town, disputing their en-
trance for two or three days, from street to street, and even from
house to house. The King my husband displayed great valor
and conduct upon the occasion, and showed himself to be a gal-
lant and brave general. Though the Huguenots succeeded
in this attempt, their loss was so great that they gained nothing
from it. Marechal de Biron kept the field, and took every
place that declared for the Huguenots, putting all that opposed
him to the sword.

From the commencement of this war, the King my hus-
band doing me the honor to love me, and commanding me not
to leave him, I had resolved to share his fortune, not without
extreme regret, in observing that this war was of such a nature
that I could not, in conscience, wish success to either side ; for

TURBULENT TIMES AT COURT 55

if the Huguenots got the upper hand, the religion which I
cherished as much as my Hfe was lost, and if the Catholics pre-
vailed, the King my husband was undone. But, being thus
attached to my husband, by the duty I owed him, and obliged
by the attentions he was pleased to show me, I could only
acquaint the King and the Queen my mother with the situation
to which I was reduced, occasioned by my advice to them
not having been attended to. I, therefore, prayed them, if
they could not extinguish the flames of war in the midst of
which I was placed, at least to give orders to Marechal de
Biron to consider the town I resided in, and three leagues
round it, as neutral ground, and that I would get the King my
husband to do the same. This the King granted me for Nerac,
provided my husband was not there ; but if he should enter it,
the neutrality was to cease, and so to remain as long as he
continued there. This convention was observed, on both sides,
with all the exactness I could desire. However, the King my
husband was not to be prevented from often visiting Nerac,
which was the residence of his sister and me. He was fond of
the society of ladies, and, moreover, was at that time greatly
enamored with Fosseuse, who held the place in his affections
which Rebours had lately occupied. Fosseuse did me no ill
offices, so that the King my husband and I continued to live on
very good terms, especially as he perceived me unwilling to
oppose his inclinations.

Led by such inducements, he came to Nerac, once, with a
body of troops, and stayed three days, not being able to leave
the agreeable company he found there. Marechal de Biron,
who wished for nothing so much as such an opportunity, was
apprised of it, and, under pretence of joining M. de Cornusson,
the seneschal of Toulouse, who was expected with a re-enforce-
ment for his army, he began his march ; but, instead of pursu-
ing the road, according to the orders he had issued, he sud-
denly ordered his troops to file off toward Nerac, and, before
nine in the morning, his whole force was drawn up within sight
of the town, and within cannon-shot of it.

The King my husband had received intelligence, the evening
before, of the expected arrival of M. de Cornusson, and was
desirous of preventing the junction, for which purpose he
resolved to attack him and the marshal separately. As he

56 MARGUERITE DE VALOIS .

had been lately joined by M. de La Rochefoucauld, with a
corps of cavalry consisting of 800 men, formed from the nobil-
ity of Saintonge, he found himself sufficiently strong to under-
take such a plan. He, therefore, set out before break of day to
make his attack as they crossed the river. But his intelligence
did not prove to be correct, for De Cornusson passed it the
evening before. My husband, being thus disappointed in his
design, returned to Nerac, and entered at one gate just as
Marechal de Biron drew up his troops before the other. There
fell so heavy a rain at that moment that the musketry was of
no use. The King my husband, however, threw a body of his
troops into a vineyard to stop the marshal's progress, not being
able to do more on account of the unfavorableness of the
weather.

In the meantime, the marshal continued with his troops
drawn up in order of battle, permitting only two or three of
his men to advance, who challenged a like number to break
lances in honor of their mistresses. The rest of the army kept
their ground, to mask their artillery, which, being ready to play,
they opened to the right and left, and fired seven or eight
shots upon the town, one of which struck the palace. The
marshal, having done this, marched ofT, despatching a trum-
peter to me with his excuse. He acquainted me that, had I
been alone, he would on no account have fired on the town ;
but the terms of neutrality for the town, agreed upon by the
King, were, as I well knew, in case the King my husband
should not be found in it, and, if otherwise, they were void.
Beside which, his orders were to attack the King my husband
wherever he should find him.

I must acknowledge on every other occasion the marshal
showed me the greatest respect, and appeared to be much my
friend. During the war my letters have frequently fallen into
his hands, when he as constantly forwarded them to me un-
opened. And whenever my people have happened to be taken
prisoners by his army, they were always well treated as soon as
they mentioned to whom they belonged,

I answered his message by the trumpeter, saying that I well
knew what he had done was strictly agreeable to the conven-
tion made and the orders he had received, but that a gallant
officer like him would know how to do his duty without giv-

TURBULENT TIMES AT COURT 57

ing his friends cause of offence ; that he might have permitted
me the enjoyment of the King my husband's company in Nerac
for three days, adding, that he could not attack him, in my
presence, without attacking me ; and concluding that, certainly,
I was greatly offended by his conduct, and would take the first
opportunity of making my complaint to the King my brother.

FAMOUS PAINTINGS FROM THE PARIS SALON.

"/EUNESSE."

Photogravure from the anginal painting bv Raphael Collin, exhibited in the

Paris Salon of i88i).

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF

HENRY IV

2DUC He ^uHp

{Maxitnilien de Bithune)

MAXIMILIEN DE B^THUNE, DUC DE SULLY

1560 — 1641

The Due de Sully, the celebrated minister of Henry IV, of France, was
the second son of Frangois, Baron de Rosny, and was born at Rosny,
near Mantes, in 1 560. Sully was at an early age committed to the care
of Henry of Navarre, the head of the Huguenot party, which not only
obtained for him an excellent education, but laid the foundation of a com-
panionship which lasted without intermission till Henry's death. After
narrowly escaping during the Saint Bartholomew massacre, he accompanied
his patron in his flight from court in 1575, and during the civil war which
followed, exerted himself to the utmost, by daring valor in the field and
otherwise to serve the master for whom he cherished the most absorbing
devotion. After Henry's authority had been well established. Sully, who
had for some years previous been his trusted adviser, became in 1594
counsellor of state and of finance. Not content with regulating the affairs
of the revenue from the seat of power, he made a tour through the chief
provincial districts armed with absolute authority, personally examined
the accounts, dismissed or suspended delinquents, and largely replenished
the treasury with the ill-gotten wealth which he compelled them to dis-
gorge. By indomitable perseverance he, little by little, brought the affairs
of the country into an orderly state ; although in the diminution of the
expenditure his efforts were by no means so successful, as the King and
the companions of his pleasures combined to oppose all retrenchment as
far as they were concerned.

Sully, however, was more than a mere financier ; he had the supreme
charge of various other branches of the administration, zealously pro-
moted agriculture by diminishing the taxes of the peasantry, encouraging
export trade, draining marsh lands, and constructing numerous roads,
bridges, and causeways. Sully was the servant of the King and govern-
ment alone, and was of necessity disliked by the people for his severity,
by the Catholics for his religion, and by the Protestants for his invariable
refusals to sacrifice the smallest jot of his master's or the country's inter-
est for their sake. Accordingly, with the death of Henrj^ his career of
supremacy was at once ended, and he was forced to resign the superin-
tendence of finance, January 26, 161 1, though he retained his other high
offices, and was presented by Maria de Medici with 300,000 livres as
acknowledgment of his services. He had been created Duke of Sully
and peer of France in February, 1606. Sully wrote three treatises on
war and police, which are lost, and two pieces of verse, which are extant ;
but the work which will ever be connected with his name is the " AN-
moi'res des sages et royales Economies d'l^tat de Henri le Grand," a
collection of writings of priceless value to a historian of Henr)' IV's time.
Sully died at Villebon, near Chartres (Eure-et-Loir), December 22, 1641.

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV

THE memoirs of this year, as of the former, will contain
none of those extraordinary events, which cannot be
read without astonishment or horror : I shall continue
in them my usual details of the government, court intrigues,
and the private life of Henry as well as my own. The winter
was spent in diversions more varied and more frequent than
ever, and in feasts prepared with great magnificence. The
King had sent for some comedians from Italy, in whose per-
formances he took much delight : he often sent for them to
Fontainebleau to play before him, and in my absence com-
manded my son to pay them their appointments with great ex-
actness. The arsenal was generally the place where those plays
and shows were exhibited, which required some preparations.

The King sometimes, when I was absent, came thither to
run at the ring; but he never thought there were the same
order and regularity preserved, as when I was there : and
the Queen, and the whole court, thought no other place so
agreeable and convenient for theatrical representations. For
this purpose I had caused a spacious hall to be built and fitted
up, with an amphitheatre ; and a great number of boxes, in
several galleries separated from each other, with different de-
grees of height, and particular doors belonging to them. Two
of these galleries were destined for the ladies : no man was
allowed to enter with them. This was one of my regulations,
which I would not sulifer should be reversed, and which I
did not think it beneath me to enforce the observation of.

One day when a very fine ballet was represented in this
hall, I perceived a man leading in a lady, with whom he was
preparing to enter one of the women's galleries : he was a
foreigner, and I easily distinguished of what country by the
swarthy color of his skin. " Monsieur," said I to him, " you

62 SULLY

must seek for another door if you please ; for I do not imagine
that, with such a complexion, you can hope to pass for a
fair lady." " My lord," answered he in very bad French,
" when you know who I am, I am persuaded you will not
refuse to let me sit among those fair ladies, as swarthy as
I am. My name is Pimentel, I have the honor to be very
well with his Majesty, Vv^ho plays very often with me "; which
was, indeed too true ; for this foreigner, whom I had already
heard often mentioned, had gained immense sums from the
King. " How, Vcntrc-de-ma-vie," said I to him, affecting to
be extremely angry, " you are then that fat Portuguese,^ who
every day wins the King's money. Pardicii, you are come to
a bad place ; for I neither like, nor will sufifer such people to
come here."

He offered to speak, but I would not hear him. " Go, go,"
said I, pushing him back, " you shall not enter here : I am
not to be prevailed upon by your gibberish." The King after-
ward asking him if he did not think the ballet very fine, and
the dances exquisitely performed, Pimentel told him that he
had a great inclination to see it, but that he met his grand
financier, with his negative front, at the door, who turned him
back. He then related his adventure with me, at which the
King was extremely pleased, and laughed heartily at his man-
ner of telling it ; nor did he forget to divert the whole court
with it afterward.

I shall not here have recourse to the artifices of false mod-
esty, to insinuate that the affection the King showed for me,
and the confidence he placed in me, had risen to such a height,
that if I had been capable of aspiring to the superb title of
favorite, I might have obtained it. The reader may judge
of this by the offers his Majesty made me this year: but it is
necessary to take this matter a little higher.

Among the many calumnies which in the year 1605 brought
me to the brink of niin, my enemies, by private informations,
endeavored to persuade Henry, that I intended to procure
so rich and so powerful an alliance for my son,^ as might one
day render him formidable to his Majesty himself: that several

' Pimentel was not a Portuguese, but He was superintendent of the fortifica-

an Italian. tions, Governor of Mante and Gergeau,

- Maximilicn de Bethune, Marquis of and master-general of the ordnance in

Rosny, eldest son of the Duke of Sully, reversion, after the death of his father;

by Anne de Courtenay, his first wife. but died before him in 1634.

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 63

persons, either by my desire, or to make their court to me,
labored so earnestly for the success of this scheme, that already
I had it in my choice to marry my son either to Mademoiselle
de Bourbon, de Maienne, de Montmorency, de Bouillon, or
de Crequy, or into any of the richest private families in the
kingdom, if I preferred a great estate to a noble name. This
was one of the principal points of that long and serious con-
versation I had with his Majesty the preceding year in his
library, and of which I promised to relate all that I was per-
mitted to discover, as opportunities offered. Henry asked
me what were my views for my son, and whether there was
any truth in those reports that he had heard concerning his
marriage with one of those ladies I have mentioned. I ac-
knowledged to this prince, that it was indeed true, each of
those families had made me offers very capable of dazzling an
ambitious man; but that my constant reply had been, that it
was from his Majesty alone I would receive a wife for my son.

The King appeared extremely well satisfied with this answer,
and these sentiments ; and opening his heart entirely, he told
me, that with regard to me, there were two things which would
give him equal uneasiness : one of which was, if, knowing the
extreme concern it gave him to see the chief of his nobility
mixing their blood with that of a burgher, or a plebeian, I
should ever dream of marrying my son below the dignity of
his birth; and the other, if, erring in the contrary extreme,
I should choose a wife for him either out of the house of
Bourbon, or of Lorraine, but more especially that of Bouillon.
Therefore, among the five young ladies proposed for Rosny,
he saw only Mademoiselle de Crequy on whom he could fix
his choice ; for everyone knew the houses of Bonne, Blanche-
fort, and Agoust, to be of the lowest class of the nobility, al-
though otherwise distinguished as much by brave examples of
personal valor as by the most shining dignities of the State.
Henry, confirming himself in this thought, added, that he
would not have the proposal come from any but himself ; and
that he would take a convenient time for it, which he did
almost immediately after.

Lesdiguieres and Crequy were not hard to be persuaded :
I may even say, that the eagerness they showed for the con-
clusion of the match did not abate, till they saw the articles

64 SULLY

not only drawn up but signed. I may say, likewise, with equal
truth, that in the conditions they found no artifice on my side :
I sought rather to acquire tender friends than relations still
nearer connected. Nothing fell out in the succeeding years,
that did not confirm me in the thought, that I had succeeded
in my endeavors to procure this happiness. Those years were
full of glory and prosperity for me, but they are past : those
friends so affectionate have disappeared with my favor ; those
allies so respectful have vanished with my fortune : but what
do I say, have they not endeavored to complete my misfor-
tune, and that of my son, by giving me cause to detest on a
thousand accounts the most unhappy of all alliances? Why
had I not the power of reading hearts? But perhaps I have
reason to thank Heaven for my error and my credulity : the
temptation to which I saw myself a short time afterward ex-
posed might have been then too powerful for conscience to
have surmounted.

Although the marriage,^ thus absolutely resolved on, was
not celebrated immediately, as both parties left it to the King
to fix the time for it, from that moment I looked upon the tie,
which united the family of Crequy to mine, as indissoluble, and
I was so far the dupe of the sincerity and tenderness of my
own heart, as to make this alliance one argument for not sufifer-
ing myself to be influenced by the enchanting prospect that
was suddenly offered to my view. It was at the latter end of
this year, which was some months after the treaty with the
Crequy family had been concluded, that this temptation was
thrown in my way ; and in the beginning of this, when I was
more strongly assailed by it. But before I explain myself,
it is necessary to observe, that it was still by an efifect of the
most refined malice of my enemies, that I saw myself in a
situation wherein it depended only upon my own choice to
reach the highest degree of greatness and splendor that any
subject could arrive at.

My enemies then began to insinuate to the King, under

• It was not celebrated till the his marriage with Magdelan de Bonne
month of October, in the following de Lesdiguieres, daughter of the con-
year, at Charenton, by M. Du Mou- stable of that name. The Marquis of
lin, a reformed minister. The lady was Rosny had issue by her, Maximilien
only nine or ten years old: she was Francis de Bethunc, Duke of Sully,
called Frances, daughter of Charles de etc., and Louisa de Bethune, who died
Blanchefort de Crequy, Prince of Poix, unmarried,
and afterward Duke of Lesdiguieres, by

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 65

an appearance of zeal both for him and me, which he thought
very sincere, that he had not yet done enough for me ; that
he ought not to delay offering and obliging me to accept all
that his munificence was able to bestow, without requiring
anything more of me than what indeed appeared most es-
sential and indispensably necessary; namely, to quit the Prot-
estant and embrace the Catholic religion. It was, doubtless,
far from their intention to procure so many advantages for me ;
and I shall easily prove, that the object they had in view was
diametrically opposite to that which they appeared to have
by the proposals they made. They had inwardly so good an
opinion of me, as to believe that I would not purchase any ad-
vancement at the price of quitting my religion. From my
refusal, therefore, they hoped to persuade the King, that he
had everything to fear from a man who was capable of making
his religion triumph over his interest, which it was generally
found no considerations, whether sacred or profane, was able
to resist. The King, pleased with the prospect of advancing
me, received this proposal with intentions so different from
those by whom it was made to him, that I cannot preserve a
too grateful remembrance of his goodness.

Accordingly he sent for me one morning to the Louvre ;
and shutting himself up alone with me in his library : " Well,
my friend," said he, " you have been in great haste to conclude
the treaty for your son's marriage, though I cannot conceive
why ; for in this alliance, neither for blood, riches, nor person,
can I see any advantage for you." Henry, it is apparent, had
forgot that I had done nothing in this affair but by his express
commands. " I have resolved," continued he, " to employ
you more than ever in the administration, and to raise you and
your family to all sorts of honors, dignities, and riches ; but
there is a necessity that you should assist me in the execution
of this design : for if you do not contribute to it on your side,
it will be dilhcult for me to accomplish my intentions, without
prejudice to my affairs, and hazarding great blame ; conse-
quences which I am persuaded you would be unwilling I
should draw upon myself. My design, then, is to ally you to
myself, by giving my daughter Vendome ^ in marriage to

* Catherine-Henrietta de Vendome, Charles of Lorraine, Duke of Elbceuf,
legitimated daughter of Henry IV by and died in 1663.
Gabrielle d'Estrees. She married

66 SULLY

your son, with a portion of 200,000 crowns in ready money,
and a pension of ten thousand a year ; the government of
Berry to your son, to which I shall join that of Bourbon-
nois after Madame d'Angouleme's decease ; and the domain
she possesses there, by reimbursing the money it cost her.
I will likewise give your son the post of grand master
of the ordnance in reversion, and the government of Poitou
to your son-in-law, for which I shall give you that of Nor-
mandy in exchange ; for I see very plainly, that poor M. de
Montpensier ^ will not live long, any more than the constable,
whose office I likewise destine for you, and will give you the
reversion of it now. But to favor all this, it is necessary that
you and your son should embrace the Catholic religion. I
entreat you not to refuse me this request, since the good of my
service, and the fortune of your house require it."

The recital I have made here is so proper to excite and to
flatter vanity, that to avoid so dangerous a snare, I will not
give way to any reflections upon it, not even to such as must
necessarily arise on the goodness of a prince, who enforced
his entreaties with acts of the highest munificence. My answer
was conceived, as I remember, in these terms : I told his
Majesty, that he did me more honor than I deserved, and
even more than I could hope or desire : that it was not for me
to decide concerning the two proposals he had made for my
son, since his settlement in the world depended entirely on
his Majesty, and he was arrived to an age that rendered him
capable of serious reflections upon religion, and might there-
fore direct his choice himself : but with regard to me, the case
was quite different. I assured him with the utmost sincerity,
that I could not think of increasing my honors, dignities, or
riches, at the expense of my conscience : that if I should ever
change my religion, it would be from conviction alone ; neither
ambition, avarice, nor vanity, being able to influence me ; and
that if I acted otherwise, his Majesty himself would have good
reason for distrusting a heart that could not preserve its faith to

° Henry de Bourbon, Duke of Mont- pray to God to grant us as much time
pensier, actually died in the month of to repent as this prince had." The
February in this year, after languishing Duke of Montpensier was only thirty-
two years, during which time he lived five years old. The branch of Bourbon
only on women's milk; having prepared Montpensier was extinct in him; for he
himself in a trulv Christian manner for left only one daughter, who was con-
his death. Henry IV being informed traded in marriage to the Duke of
of it, said aloud: " We ought all to Orleans, second son of Henry IV.

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 67

God. " But why," replied Henry, with a cordiality that, sensibly
affected me, " why should I suspect you, since you would not
do anything that I have not done before you, and which you
yourself advised me to do, when I proposed the affair to you.
Give me, I beseech you, this satisfaction : I will allow you a
month to consider of it: fear not that I will fail in the per-
formance of any of my promises."

" I have not, sire," I replied, " the least doubt but that your
word is inviolable : I desire nothing so ardently as to please
you ; nor will I ever neglect anything that is in my power to do.
I promise to think seriously of all that you have been pleased
to propose to me, still hoping I shall satisfy your Majesty,
though not perhaps in the manner you expect."

The Protestants hearing that I intended to break off my
proposed alliance with Lesdiguieres, and to marry my son to
Mademoiselle de Vendome, for this report was immediately
spread everywhere, they now believed they were going to
lose me entirely. They had long, with the severest reproaches,
accused me with having labored to ruin the Protestant party
in France, by amassing up such considerable sums for the
King, and providing such an abundance of warlike stores,
which their fears represented to them would be first employed
against them. In vain did I endeavor to convince them, that
they had no reason to apprehend such designs from a prince
like Henry. Their prejudices made them always return to
their former suspicions of me : in these they were confirmed
by the affection the King showed for Rosny, calling him often
son ; the free access which all ecclesiastics had to my house ;
the care I took to repair churches, hospitals, and convents, in
which I every year expended a considerable sum of the royal
revenues; the brief of Paul V, of which several copies had been
taken ; and I know not how many other circumstances, which
all at that moment concurred to persuade them of my breach
of faith.

The chief persons among the Protestants, and the ministers
especially, seemed to be most uneasy at this report, not only
because of the triumph which their enemies were going to have
over them ; but because they were persuaded, and they even
said it publicly, that if I was once prevailed upon to abandon
them, I should not act with indifference toward them, but

68 SULLY

become . their most zealous persecutor. For a long space of
time, I heard nothing but exhortations, remonstrances, and
harangues, from that party, which were not hkely to be very
efficacious after what the King had said to me, if I had not
happily found the strongest support within myself. The
Countess of Sault, Lesdiguieres, and the Crequy family, ex-
erted themselves, in the meantime, with the utmost vigor, to
hinder the marriage with Mademoiselle de Crequy from being
broken off, and that with Mademoiselle de Vendome from
going forward : they endeavored to persuade the Queen to
interest herself in their cause, and complained to her of what
was designed to their prejudice. But finding that she would
do nothing in the afifair, they renewed their solicitations to me,
making use of every method they thought capable of keeping
me on their side ; assiduities, assurances, promises, oaths, all
were employed to dissuade me from a design I had never en-
tertained.

During these transactions, I left Paris to take a journey to
Sully, and my other estates ; and immediately upon my return,
which was at the end of ten or twelve days, his Majesty sent
Villeroi to me, to receive my answer upon the proposals he had
made to me. I was not sorry that he had deputed a person
to me, before whom I could declare, with the utmost freedom,
those sentiments which reflection had but the more confirmed.
I told Villeroi, that I most humbly thanked his Majesty for all
the honors he had conferred on me : that I could never con-
sent to be invested with the offices of persons still living ; and
that, although they should become vacant, I did not think
myself entitled to them, being already possessed of as many
as I desired : that as for what regarded my son, I should never
have any other counsel to give him, than to obey the King,
and to do nothing against his own conscience. I had particu-
lar reasons for being still less explicit upon the articles of my
change of religion : therefore, I only told Villeroi, that Cardinal
Du Perron should bear my answer to his Majesty. His Emi-
nence, as well as Henry, thought there was great meaning
in these words : the King related them to Du Perron, declaring
that he entertained some hopes from them. And soon after
this, the cardinal came to visit me, and entreated me to open
my whole heart to him. My answer had both strength, and

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 69

even theology enough in it to convince Du Perron that he
had been deceived in his expectations : neither his learning
nor his eloquence could move me ; and at his return, he told
the King I was inflexible.

This prince, who was desirous of making one effort more,
sent for me again ; but although he made use of no other
arguments than what the gentleness of his disposition, and
his affection for me suggested, and, if I may be permitted to
say so, such solicitations as became our ancient friendship,
yet I was persuaded, the danger would not stop there, great
as it was even then, especially when he began to reproach me,
and called my constancy and firmness, obduracy to him ; and
a certain sign, he said, that I no longer loved him. At length,
he told me, that this was the last time he would speak of this
matter to me ; and that he expected I should give him my son
at least. To this I again replied, that I would not deny him ;
but that I could not consent to use the authority of a father
to make my son embrace the Roman Catholic religion. His
firmness was equal to my own ; and the King, who would not
bestow his daughter on any of the princes of the blood for
fear of rendering them too powerful, resolved to marry Made-
moiselle de Vendome to the son of M. le Connetable. The
Countess of Sault took this opportunity to renew her instances
for the accomplishing her grand-daughter's marriage.

All that now remained to be done was to guard against the
counter-blow of my enemies : and this I did not neglect, when
I found that they were busy in preparing it for me. I took
that opportunity to write to the King, telling him that I was
not ignorant of anything that was reported to him to give him
a bad impression of my thoughts, words, and actions: that
they imputed to me what I neither thought, said, nor did. I
earnestly entreated him not to forget the promise he had made
me, to declare to me himself his will, and what causes of com-
plaint he had against me. His answer was wholly calculated
to restore my quiet, and secure me against all apprehensions
from my enemies : he told me in it, that I, in common with all
persons in power, excited more envy than compassion. " You
know," added he, " whether I am exempted from it from the
people of both religions. This then is all you have to do ; that
since I take your advice in all my affairs, do you also take mine

70 SULLY

in everything that relates to you, as that of the most faithful
friend you have in the world, and the best master that ever
was."

It was not without some reason that Henry brought himself
as an example. He likewise had his uneasinesses, and his secret
enemies : for although we no longer, as formerly, saw seditions
ready to break out in the kingdom, because the exertion of the
royal authority had obliged insolence and mutiny to keep them-
selves concealed; yet it was but too certain, that in court, and
among the most considerable persons in the kingdom, the same
turbulent and restless spirit, the same eager panting after nov-
elties, which had so long kept the State in disorder and anarchy,
were perceived. That spirit now showed itself in divisions
among families, and quarrels between particular persons, which
Henry labored to compose by every method in his power, look-
ing upon them as seeds from whence nothing but the most dan-
gerous fruits could proceed : and it gave him great pain when
he could not always succeed to his wish. The reign of Henry
IV, which in many respects bore a great resemblance to that
of Augustus, had likewise this in conformity with his, that it
was disturbed by quarrels among his nobility ; and, on these
occasions, the example of Augustus was what Henry common-
ly proposed to himself to imitate, ^quitate non acnlco was the
motto, which, by his direction, I put on the gold medals struck
this year, which represented a swarm of bees in the air, with
their king in the midst of them without a sting. I presented
these medals to Henry, as he passed through his little gallery
to that which leads to the Tuileries, where we walked together
a long time, discoursing upon the subject I have just men-
tioned, and those domestic quarrels which embittered the life
of a prince too gentle and too good, whose unhappiness I have
so often deplored.

The reader may perceive, that in my memoirs of the late
years, I have faithfully observed the promise I had formerly
made, to entertain him no more with the weaknesses of Henry.
I carefully concealed from my secretaries, and all persons what-
ever, all that passed between Henry and me upon this subject,
in those many long and secret conversations we had together:
except the Duchess of Beaufort and the Marchioness of Ver-
neuil, the name of no other woman has been mentioned in these

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV

" Memoirs," with the title of mistress to the King. I choose
rather to suppress all the trouble I have suffered in this article,
than make it known at the expense of my master's glory : prob-
ably I have carried this scruple too far. The public has heard
so often the names of Madame de Moret,'' Mademoiselle des
Essarts, old Madame d'Angouleme, the Countess of Sault,
Mesdames de Ragny and de Chanlivault, two of my relations ;
the Commandeur de Sillery,'^ Rambouillet, Marillac, Buret the
physician, another physician who was a Jew, and many of the
most considerable persons at court, all differently interested
in these adventures of gallantry, either as principals or as par-
ties concerned ; that I might relate a great deal without saying
anything new, which would be indeed but a cold repetition of
little debates and love quarrels, such as those which I have
already slightly mentioned. The following circumstance I
have excepted from this rule, as it is of a nature that seems to
require I should justify my part in it to the public.

On one of those occasions when Henry was most deeply
affected with the uneasy temper of the Queen, it was reported,
that he had quitted her with some emotion, and set out for
Chantilly without seeing her. This indeed was true ; he took
the arsenal in his way, and there opened his whole heart to me
upon the cause of this dispute. The King pursued his jour-
ney, and I went in the afternoon to the Louvre, attended only
by one of my secretaries, who did not follow me to the Queen's
little closet, where she was then shut up. Leonora Conchini

• Jacqueline Du-Beuil, Countess of
Moret; Charlotte des Essarts, Coun-
tess of Romorantin; two of Henry
IV's mistresses. By the first he had
Antony, Earl of Moret, killed at the
battle of Castelnaudary in 1632; and by
the second he had two daughters; one
Abbess of Fontevraud, and the other of
Chelles. By those two ladies, by the
Duchess of Beaufort, and by the Mar-
chioness of Verneuil, who successively
had openly the title of the King's mis-
tress, he had eight children, which were
all he legitimated. Besides these, he
was in love with Mary Babou, Vis-
countess of Estauges, two cousins of
the fair Gabrielle, and many others.
See " L'Histoire des Amours du Grand
Alcandre."

After the death of Henry IV Made-
moiselle des Essarts secretly married
the Cardinal of Guise, Lewis of Lor-
raine; the Pope having granted him a
dispensation for that marriage, and, at
the same time, empowered him still to

hold his benefices. This is proved by
the very contract of marriage, found
among the cardinal's papers after his
death, executed in the most authentic
form. Mention is made of this in the
" Mercure Hist, and Polit.," April,
1688. From this marriage two sons
were born; one Bishop of Condom, and
the second Earl of Romorantin; and
two daughters, one of whom married
the Marquis of Rhodes. Charlotte des
Essarts afterward married Francis Du-
Hallier - de - I'Hospital, Marechal of
France, Earl of Rosnay, etc. The com-
mentary of " Les Amours du Grand Al-
candre " remarks only, that she was the
Cardinal of Guise's mistress; and after-
ward of N. De-Vic, Archbishop of
Auch. She was the natural daughter of
the Baron of Sautour in Champagne.
" Journal du Regne de Henry III,"
printed in 1720, vol. i. p. 277.

' Noel de Sillery, brother of the chan-
cellor, ambassador at Rome.

SULLY

was at the door of this closet, her head bending down toward
her neck, like a person who was sleeping, or at least in a pro-
found reverie. I drew her out of it, and she told me, that the
Queen would not suffer her to enter her closet, the door of
which, however, opened to me the moment I was named.*

I found the Queen busy in composing a letter to the King,
which she allowed me to read : it breathed an air of spleen
and bitterness, which must inevitably have very bad effects.
I made her so sensible of the consequences it was likely to pro-
duce, that she consented to suppress it, though with great
difficulty ; and upon condition that I should assist her in com-
posing another, wherein nothing should be omitted of all that,
as she said, she might with justice represent to the King her
husband. There was a necessity for complying with this re-
quest, to avoid something worse. Many little debates arose
between us, concerning the choice of expressions and the force
of each term. I had occasion for all the presence of mind I
was capable of exerting, to find out the means of satisfying
this princess, without displeasing the King, or of being guilty
of any disrespect in addressing him.

This letter, which was very long, I shall not repeat here.
The Queen complained in it of the continual gallantries of the
King her husband ; but declared that she was excited to this
only by the earnest desire she had to possess his heart entirely.
If therefore she appeared to insist too absolutely upon his sac-
rificing his mistress to her, her quiet, her conscience, and her
honor, the interest of the King, his health and his life, the good
of the State, and the security of her children's succession to the
throne, which the Marchioness de Verneuil took pleasure in
rendering doubtful, were so many motives which reduced lier,
she said, to the disagreeable necessity of making such a de-

* The Queen, for a long time, placed
a great confidence in M. de Sully. The
author " L'Histoire de la Mere and du
Fits " says, that princess having re-
solved one day, by the advice of Con-
chini, to inform the King, that certain
of the courtiers had had the boldness
to make love to her, she was desirous
of previously taking the Duke of Sully's
advice in regard to it, vifho persuaded
her not to execute that resolution, by
representing to her, that she was going
to give the King the strongest and just-
est suspicion a sovereign could have
of his wife; since every man of common
sense must know very well, that it

would be highly improper to entertain
a person of her rank on the subject of
love, without previously being assured,
that it would not be disagreeable to her,
or from her having made the first ad-
vances: and that the King might im-
agine, the motives which had induced
her to make such a discovery, were
either fear that it should have been
made by some other means, or that she
had taken a disgust against the persons
accused, by meeting with somebody else
more agreeable in her eyes; or, in fine,
through the persuasion of others, who
had influence enough over her to pre-
vail on her to take this revolution.

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV

mand. To awaken his tenderness, and excite his compassion,
she added, that she, together with the children she had by him,
would throw themselves at his feet : she reminded him of his
promises, and took God to witness, that if she could prevail
upon him to keep them, she would, on her side, renounce all
other vengeance against the Marchioness de Verneuil.

All my caution was scarce sufficient to avoid the extremes
the Queen would have run into; and it is apparent, however,
that I failed either in address or invention : for the King, when
he received this letter, was mortally offended with it, and so
much the more as he instantly perceived that it was not in the
Queen's manner. I had a billet from him immediately, con-
ceived in these terms : " My friend, I have received the most
impertinent letter from my wife that ever was wrote. I am not
so angry with her, as with the person that has dictated it ; for
I see plainly that it is not her style. Endeavor to discover the
author of it : I never shall have any regard for him, who-
ever he be ; nor will I see him as long as I live." However
secure I thought myself, I could not help being uneasy at this
billet.

The King, on his arrival from Chantilly, three or four days
afterward, came to the arsenal. I was sufficiently perplexed by
the questions he asked me concerning this affair ; for it was
expressly for that purpose that he came.

" Well," said he, " have you yet discovered the person who
composed my wife's letter?"

" Not yet certainly," replied I, making use of some little
address, " but I hope to give you this satisfaction in two days ;
and probably sooner, if you will tell me what there is in it that
displeases you."

" Oh," replied he, " the letter is mighty well written ; full of
reasons, obedience, and submission ; but wounds me smiling,
and while it flatters piques me. I have no particular exception
to make to it ; but, in general, I am offended with it, and shall
be the more so if it comes to be public."

" But, sire," replied I, " if it be such as you say, it may
have been written with a good intention, and to prevent some-
thing still worse."

" No ! no ! " interrupted Henry, " it is maliciously designed,
and with a view to insult me. If my wife had taken advice

74 SULLY

from you, or from any of my faithful servants in it, I should
not have been so much offended."

" What, sire," resumed I hastily, " if it was one of your
faithful servants who had dictated it, would you not bear him
some ill-will? "

" Not the least," returned the King; " for I should be very
certain, that he had done it with a good intention."

" It is true, sire," said I : " therefore you must be no longer
angry ; for it was I that dictated it, through an apprehension
that something worse might happen : and when you know my
reasons, you will confess, that I was under a necessity of doing
it. But to remove all your doubts, I will show you the original,
written in my own hand, at the side of the Queen's." Saying
this, I took the paper out of my pocket, and presented it to him.

The King, as he read it, made me observe some words, in
the place of which the Queen, when she copied the letter, had
substituted others far less obliging. " Well," said he, " since
you are the author, let us say no more of it : my heart is at rest.
But this is not all," added he, taking advantage of the ascendant
which on this occasion I seemed to have over the mind of the
Queen : " there are two services which I expect from you." I
listened to the King with great attention, and without once
interrupting him, although he spoke a long time ; and I shall
here relate his words, which I took down in writing at the
time. It is by this kind of familiar conversations that the heart
is best known.

" I know," said he, " that my wife came twice to your house,
while I was at the chase : that she was shut up with you in
your wife's closet, each time above an hour ; that at her com-
ing out from thence, although her color seemed to be raised
by anger, and her eyes full of tears, yet she behaved in a friendly
manner to you, thanked you, and appeared not ill satisfied
with what you had said to her : and that you may know I am
not ill informed, I shall not hide from you, that it was my
cousin, de Rohan, your daughter, who related all this to me ; not
for the sake of telling secrets, but because she thought I should
be glad to see my wife and you upon such friendly terms. It
must certainly be, therefore, that my wife has some business of
consequence with you : for, notwithstanding all the questions I
have asked her, she has never said a single word, or given the

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV

smallest intimation of these two conferences. I forbid you
likewise, upon pain of my displeasure, to say anything of this
matter to my cousin, de Rohan : you will deprive me of the
pleasure I have in seeing her here, and she will never tell me
anything more, if she knows I have repeated this to you. Al-
though I laugh and play with her as with a child, yet I do not
find in her a childish understanding. She sometimes gives me
very good advices, and is extremely secret, which is an excel-
lent quality. I have told her many things in confidence, which
I have been convinced she never mentioned, either to you or any
other person.

" But to return to these two important services, which only
you, in my opinion, are able to undertake, I have already said,
and I repeat it again, that you must be extremely careful to
avoid giving the least suspicion that you have concerted with
me what you are to do and say in these affairs : it must not
appear that I know anything of your interposition, but that
you act entirely of yourself: and you must even feign to be
apprehensive of its coming to my ear. One of these services
regards Madame de Verneuil ; it is with her you must begin,
and this will smooth your way to the other.

" You must tell this lady, that as her particular friend you
come to give her notice, that she is upon the point of losing my
favor, unless she behaves with great prudence and circum-
spection ; that you have discovered that there are persons at
court who are endeavoring to engage me in affairs of gallantry
with others ; and if this should happen, you are fully persuaded
that I shall take her children from her, and confine her to a
cloister; that this abatement in my affection for her is, in the
first place, apparently caused by the suspicion I have enter-
tained that she no longer loves me ; that she takes the liberty
to speak of me often with contempt, and even prefers other
persons to me : secondly, because she seeks to strengthen her-
self with the interest of the house of Lorraine, as if she was
desirous of some other protector than me ; but, above all, her
connections and familiarities with Messieurs de Guise and de
Joinville offend me to the last degree ; being fully convinced,
that from them she will receive only such counsels as are dan-
gerous both to my person and state ; as likewise from her father
and her brother, with whom, notwithstanding my prohibition to

76 SULLY

her, she still corresponds, when she might have thought herself
happy, that, at her entreaties, I spared their lives; that she
sends messages to her brother by his wife, whom I have allowed
to visit him ; but that the chief cause of my estrangement from
her is her unworthy proceedings toward the Queen."

Henry then told me many circumstances concerning the
marchioness, which I have already related. " If," continued
he, " either by an effect of your industry or good fortune, you
can prevail upon her to alter her conduct in all these respects,
you will not only free me from great uneasiness, and set my
heart at rest with regard to her, but you will likewise furnish
yourself with the means of disposing the Queen to accommo-
date herself to my will, which is the second service that I re-
quire and expect from you : you must remonstrate to her, still
as from yourself, that it is absolutely necessary she should do
so, if she would engage me to give her the satisfaction she de-
mands. That, among many other causes of disgust which she
gives me, nothing is more insupportable to me, than that ab-
solute authority she suffers Conchini and his wife to have over
her; that these people make her do whatever they please,
oppose all that they dislike, and love and hate, as they direct
her passions ; that they have at length exhausted my patience ;
and that I often reproach myself for not following the advice
given me by the Duchess of Florence, Don John, Jouanini,
Gondy, and even what my own judgment suggested, which was
to send them both from Marseilles back to Italy. I was de-
sirous," pursued the King, " to repair this fault through the in-
terposition of Don John ; but I soon perceived it was too late :
for scarce did Don John enter upon the subject with the Queen,
to whom he proposed it by way of advice, than she entered, as
you know, into such an excess of rage against him, that there
was no sort of reproaches, insults, and threats, which she did
not use to him; so that, not able to endure them, he quitted
France, notwithstanding all my endeavors to retain him, which
gave her great satisfaction on Conchini's account, whom Don
John publicly threatened to poniard.

" But before this happened, the Princess of Orange thought
of other expedients for removing these two persons, and pro-
posed them to me by Madame de Verneuil, who thought to
.prevail upon the Queen, by this complaisance for her favorites,

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 77

to permit her to see her, and come freely to the Louvre. These
expedients, to which I consented, because I found you did not
oppose them, were to marry Conchini to la Leonor, and after-
ward to send them back to Italy, under the honorable pretence
of living with splendor in their own country, upon the great
riches they had acquired in France : but all this, instead of
softening my wife, or engaging her to alter her conduct, has
only taught her to oppose my will with more obstinacy than
before ; and the Conchinis, both husband and wife, are now
become so insolent and audacious, that they have dared to
threaten my person, if I use any violence to their friends."

It was not easy for the King to quit this article, through the
rage with which he was agitated against this whole party.
Among many others, he recounted the following circum-
stance, which, till then, I thought he had been ignorant of.
My wife, knowing that Conchini had a design to purchase
La-Ferte-au-Vidame, which was worth 200,000 or 300,000
crowns, she thought such a considerable estate would give
occasion for murmurs that could not fail of reflecting back
upon the Queen herself, on account of the protection she was
known to grant them. She did not hesitate therefore a moment
about waiting on the Queen, to represent to her, that it was her
interest to hinder Conchini from pushing this matter any fur-
ther. The Queen received this advice very graciously, and
thanked my wife for giving it her : but as soon as she saw
the Conchinis, they knew so well how to make her alter her
opinion, that she exclaimed in a strange manner against Ma-
dame de Rosny, and would not see her for some time. Prob-
ably her resentment would have lasted much longer, had she
not reflected, that both herself and her favorites had always
occasion for me.

" I have been told," added Henry, " that Conchini had the
impudence to reproach your wife upon this occasion, and used
expressions so full of insolence both against her and me, that
I am surprised she did not answer him more severely : but,
doubtless, she was restrained by her fears of breaking entirely
with my wife. You cannot imagine," pursued Henry, not able
to cease his invectives against this Italian, " how greatly I
was provoked to see this man undertake to be the challenger at
a tournament, against all the bravest, and most gallant men in

78 SULLY

France, and this in the Grande Rue St. Antoine, where my
wife and all the ladies of the court were present ; and that he
should have the good fortune to carry it : but nothing ever
gave me greater pleasure than I had at this course, when I saw
M. de Nemours, and the Marquis de Rosny your son, arrive,
mounted upon two excellent horses, which they managed with
equal grace, and uncommon justness."

Henry, after dwelling some time longer upon a circumstance
that had given him so much pleasure, renewed his former sub-
ject. " Be careful," said he to me, " to manage those two
affairs, I have recommended to you, cautiously ; proceed lei-
surely, and as opportunities offer, without hazarding anything
by too great precipitation : in a word, act with your usual pru-
dence, respect, and address. I protest I shall esteem these two
services more than if you had gained me a battle, or taken the
city and castle of Milan with your cannons ; for my heart sug-
gests to me, that this man and woman will one day do great
mischief: I find in them designs above their condition, and
absolutely contrary to their duty." Again I asked this prince,
why he referred to me an afifair the success of which, in my
hands, were so doubtful ; whereas, if he would undertake it
himself, it would cost him no more to execute it than to pro-
nounce to two women with a resolute tone a single " I will have
it so." His reply tcT this, and the debates that followed, were
the same with those which the reader has already too often
seen in these " Memoirs." At last he went away, saying, with
an embrace : " Adieu, my friend : I earnestly recommend to
you these two afifairs, for they are very near my heart : but,
above all, be secret."

All that by my utmost endeavor I was able to do for the
tranquillity of this prince, was to procure him some short calms,
amid the long and often-repeated storms he was obliged to
suffer, in such an unequal vicissitude did he pass the few days
that Heaven still left him. One of his longest intervals of quiet
was during the Queen's lying-in. She had followed the King,
who went in the beginning of March to Fontainebleau. It was
not possible to carry tenderness and solicitude further than
Henry did. While she was in this condition, he often writ to
me from Fontainebleau, and in every letter gave me an account
of the Queen's health, " I thought," said he in one of these

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 79

letters, " to have sent you the news of my wife's being brought
to bed ; but I beheve it will not be this night." In another,
" My wife imagines she will go to the end of the month, since
she has passed yesterday." The Queen was delivered of her
third son " on the twenty-sixth of April.

The King still continuing to write to me as usual, in one of
his letters ordered me to acquaint him how the news of his son's
birth was received. " Not by you," said he, " for there I have
no doubt ; but by the public." I keep with great care the fol-
lowing letter, which his Majesty sent me by the Duke of Ro-
han, upon hearing that my wife had lain-in of a son about the
same time that the Queen did. " I do not believe, that any of
my servants have taken greater interest in the birth of my son
d'Anjou than you; and I would have you likewise believe, that
I surpass all your friends in joy for the birth of yours ; you
will be stunned with their flatteries ; but the assurance I give
you of my friendship ought to be more convincing than all
their speeches. Remember me to the lying-in lady." ^°

The Queen was more indisposed after this lying-in than she
had ever been before ; but proper remedies being used, she was
soon restored to perfect health. The King took all imaginable
care of her. He came to Paris the beginning of May, but re-
turned almost immediately after to Fontainebleau ; and the joy
the Queen showed at his return filled him with a real satis-
faction. He allowed, at the request of this princess, that
10,000 or 12,000 crowns should be expended on buildings at
Monceaux, and sent me orders to that purpose. It is from these
letters of his Majesty that I collect all these circumstances.
This order he repeated when the master-builder, who had un-
dertaken the work, informed him that he had been obliged,
through want of money, to dismiss his men. I had given him
an assignment upon a restitution of money to be paid by the
nephew of Argouges, which he had not yet done, pretending, to
gain time, that he owed nothing. The King sent me orders to
press him for the payment, and to advance the master-builder
the money out of other funds, without referring him to Fresne,

* Gaston-Tohn-Baptist of France, then ^" " I should be glad," says Henry

called Duice of Anjou, and afterward IV, " God had sent him a dozen sons;

Duke of Orleans: he died in 1660. Siri for it would be a great pity, that from

makes Henry IV say, before the birth so good a stem there should not be

of that prince, that he would dedicate some offsets." " Mem. Hist. de

him to the Church, and that he should France."
be called the Cardinal of France.

8o SULLY

who could not force him to pay it. Being apprehensive that I
should give credit to the reports which were made me of the
Queen's being disgusted, and that she sought a pretence for
quarrelling with me, he, in another letter, for a proof of the
contrary, related to me in what manner this princess had taken
my part against M. and Madame de Ventadour, who had made
some complaints of me to their Majesties.

One could not give Henry a more sensible pleasure than by
conforming one's self to that complaisance which he had for
everyone with whom he lived in any degree of friendship or
familiarity. I received from him a gracious acknowledgment
for some services rendered to Madame deVerneuil and Madame
de Moret, and for the methods I made use of to free him from
Mademoiselle des Essarts. This young lady began to be ex-
tremely troublesome to him ; she had the presumption to expect
she should have the same ascendant over him as his other mis-
tresses. At last, however, she seemed willing to retire into the
Abbey of Beaumont, and named certain conditions, upon which
Zamet and La Varenne were often sent by Henry to confer with
me. He gave himself the trouble to write to the President de
Motteville, concerning the place of a Maitrc-dcs-Comptes at
Rouen, which the young lady requested ; and to Montauban, to
advance the money for the purchase. There was a necessity
likewise for giving her a thousand crowns, and five hundred to
the Abbey of Beaumont, which she had chosen for her retreat.^
Both these sums the King demanded of me, in a letter dated
May 1 2th : happy indeed, to get rid of her at so easy a rate !

He likewise desired my advice, as to the manner in which
he should behave to avoid a quarrel with the Queen, on an
occasion when Conchini became a competitor with Madame de
Verneuil, for a favor which that lady had obtained a promise
for two years before. " I love," said he in his letter, " Madame
de Verneuil better than Conchini " ; which indeed was not to be
doubted : but at that time he was obliged to act with great cir-
cumspection toward the Queen. This gave rise to an intrigue
at court that afforded great pleasure to several persons, which
I cannot better explain than by the following letter the King
writ me from Fontainebleau :

" Although I have parted with Madame de Verneuil upon

' She did not retire thither; or, at least, if she did, she did not stay long there.

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 8i

very bad terms, yet I cannot help having some curiosity to
know, if there be any foundation for the report which prevails
here, that the Prince of Joinville visits her : learn the truth of
it, and give me notice in a letter, which I will burn, as you must
do this. It is this that retains him so long, they say : you know
well it is not for want of money."

The report was indeed true: Joinville had suffered himself
to be captivated by the charms of the marchioness, who, as it
was said, did not let him despair. For a long time, nothing
was talked of but their intimacy, and the very passionate letters
which it was pretended they writ to each other ; and it was at
last confidently reported, that he had offered to marry her: it
must be observed, that all this I repeat after the court and
Paris. Trifling as this affair may seem, there were in it some
circumstances relating to the King, of such consequence as to
make a profound secrecy necessary. If matters had really gone
so far between the two lovers as people were willing to believe,
Madame de Verneuil, notwithstanding all her experience, was
here the dupe: she was not sufficiently well acquainted with
the disposition and conduct of a young man, still less amorous,
than rash and heedless : promises, oaths, privacies, letters, all,
in a very little time, ended in a rupture, which was equally im-
puted to both. However, to say the truth, the fault lay on
Madame de Villars,^ who appeared too beautiful in the eyes of
Joinville to leave his heart faithful to its first choice.

Madame de Villars did not at first appear so easy a conquest
as her rival had been: proud of her alliance with the blood-
royal, she treated him with distance and reserve. Joinville re-
pulsed, and in despair, extorted from her the cause of her rigor.
She told him, that after the correspondence he had, and still
continued to carry on, with a lady so beautiful and witty as
Madame de Verneuil, it would be dangerous to rely on his
fidelity. Joinville defended himself ; it is not necessary to say
in what terms. She refuted him, by alleging their interviews,
and letters ; one in particular from Madame de Verneuil, more
tender and passionate than the rest. On such an occasion, it is
a custom to make, to the beloved lady, a sacrifice of her letters
who was abandoned. Joinville resisted as long as he was able ;
but, at last, put into the hands of Madame de Villars that pre-

' Juliet-Hyppolita d'Estrees, wife of George de Brancas, Marquis of Villars.
6

82 SULLY

tended letter: (I say pretended, because it was far from being
certain that this letter, which he was prevailed upon with so
much difficulty to show, ever came from Madame de Verneuil).
But be that as it will ; for the use Madame de Villars intended
to make of this letter, it was indifferent to her whether it was
forged or not.

This woman had an inveterate hatred to the Marchioness of
Verneuil : the moment she had the letter in her possession, she
flew with it to the King. It was not difficult, with such a proof,
to make herself be believed ; and she made such an artful use
of it, that this prince, hitherto ignorant, or willing to seem so,
of the greatest part of the intrigue, came instantly to me, with
a heart filled with grief and rage, and related to me I know not
how many circumstances, which to him appeared as certain
proofs of her guilt ; though I thought them far from being
convincing. I told him, for it was necessary to treat this affair
methodically, that he ought to hear what Madame de Verneuil
could say for herself, before he condemned her. " Oh ! heav-
ens, hear her," cried Henry, " she has such a command of
language, that if I listen to her, she will persuade me I am to
blame, and that she is injured: yet I will speak to her, and
show her these proofs of her perfidy." In effect, he went away
breathing nothing but vengeance. Joinville's intrigues with the
governor of Franche-Comte seemed to him not half so criminal.

The Marchioness of Verneuil, long accustomed to these sorts
of transports, was not much alarmed ; and maintained to the
King, that Joinville had been wicked enough to forge this let-
ter. Henry, softened by a circumstance which had not entered
into his head before, became almost entirely satisfied, when she
proposed to him, to submit it to my judgment, whether the
handwriting was hers or not, sensible that no collusion could
be suspected between us ; she not having an excess of confi-
dence in me, nor I too much esteem for her. Accordingly the
papers were put into my hands, and a day fixed for the decision
of this cause, which was to be determined at the house of the
marchioness. I went thither in the morning, and was intro-
duced into her closet, where she waited both for her accuser
and her judge; in an undress that expressed great negligence,
and no cap on.

I had already begun to examine her, when Henry came in

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV

with Montbazon : I am not permitted to relate the rest ; for
the King would not suffer any of those that came with him to
be present at this conference : however, they heard us talk very
loud, and the marchioness weep. The King went from her
apartment into another, and desiring all that were there to
withdraw, took me to one of the most distant windows to exam-
ine the papers with him more exactly. This was not done so
calmly, but those that were without might hear us discourse
with great heat ; and me often going and coming, between the
lady's closet and the place v/here the King stood. The con-
clusion of this scene was, that the King returned entirely satis-
fied with his mistress.^ As for Joinville, whatever part he had
acted, it was happy for him that it was Henry with whom he
had to do ; and the more so, as he engaged, almost immediately
afterward, in another intrigue of the same nature with Madame
de Moret,* which I was not acquainted with.

The Count of Sommerive ^ was likewise hardy enough to
become the rival of his master, and to make the Countess of
Moret the object of his gallantries, with whom he began by a
proposal of marriage ; and it was believed, that he had given
her a promise in writing : for to a young man transported with

' In the " Memoirs of Bassompierre,"
I find the following account of this in-
trigue.— " A few days afterward hap-
pened the difference between Madame
de Verneuil and the King, which had
its origin from Madame de Villars hav-
ing shown the King some letters which
Madame de Verneuil had wrote to the
Prince of Joinville, and which he had
given her. The affair was accommo-
dated by the Duke of Aiguillon's bring-
ing to the King a clerk of Bigot, who
confessed that he had forged those let-
ters; and the Prince of Joinville was
banished." Our memoirs mention this
to have happened in this year; but it
was in the year 1603, upon the return
of Henry IV from his journey to Metz.

* The " Memoirs for the History of
France " give this account of it. — " The
Prince of Joinville having made his ad-
dresses to one of the King's favorites,
who was one of those whom Tertullian
calls Publicarum libidinum victimse;
she, to excuse herself, alleged the prince
had given her a promise of marriage.
He thereby incurred the King's dis-
pleasure, who commanded him either
to banish himself or marry the lady.
At first, he put on the appearance of be-
ing willing to marry her, and to go on
with what he had begun: but at last he
declared, that he had never any such
intention; and said aloud that, the
King only excepted, if any gentleman,
or any one of whatever quality, had

given him such language, he would
have set both his feet on his neck.
The Count de Lude hearing of this,
said it was the sentiment of a hangman.
Madame de Guise, in tears, came and
threw herself at the King's feet, and,
as if she were in the extremest despair,
begged of his Majesty to kill her. To
which the King answered. ' I have
never killed any ladies, and I do not
know how to go about it.' Those, adds
he, who were esteemed to be the most
knowing at court, gave out it was the
King himself who had induced the
countess to do what she did."

" I gave notice," says Bassompierre in
his " Memoirs," " to the Prince of Join-
ville, and Madame de Moret, of the de-
sign the King had to surprise them to-
gether. They were not found together;
but the King discovered enough to for-
bid M. de Chevreuse, the name the
Prince of Joinville then bore, the court;
and would have done the same by her,
had she not been on the point of being
brought to bed; but time made up this
difference." Henry gave orders to take
the Prince of Joinville into custody; but
he escaped out of the kingdom, and
did not return till after the death of
Henry IV, his family having never been
able to prevail on the King to recall
him.

^ Charles-Emanuel de Lorraine, second
son of the Duke of Maienne.

84 SULLY

passion, the one costs as little as the other. The King, when
he was informed of it, approved of the match, and employed
La Borde, a gentleman whom he knew to be more faithfully
devoted to him than any of those that resorted to the countess's
house, to discover if they were sincere on both sides, and to
take care to prevent the youth from transgressing the bounds of
his duty. La Borde's report was not very favorable to the
Count of Sommerive, who, at first, had some thoughts of mur-
dering this troublesome Argus ; and meeting him one day as he
was coming from church, he fell upon him so furiously, that
La Borde, to save his life, was obliged to have recourse to
flight. The King commanded me to examine into this fact,
which, in his fury, he called an assassination. The time
Sommerive had chosen for it, and the disrespect it showed for
the King, rendered him still more guilty.

However, it being necessary to observe some caution, though
it were only in consideration of La Borde ; for the King was
sensible, that Sommerive was a far more dangerous person to
deal with than Joinville ; La Varenne came to me from his
Majesty, to consult upon proper measures for managing this
affair, without wounding his own authority ; and we agreed,
that the best expedient was, to prevail upon the Duke of Ma-
ienne himself to do the King justice, with regard to the offence
his son had committed against him : I was charged with this
message, and the conduct of it left wholly to my judgment. I
found the Duke of Maienne so ill with a fit of the gout, which
was attended with a high fever, that there was no possibility of
speaking to him, especially upon such a subject. The Duke of
Aiguillon,'' Sommerive's eldest brother, told me, that this ac-
tion of his brother was not more deeply resented by any person
than by his whole family ; that it had been the cause of his
father's illness ; and wished himself dead, as well as this un-
worthy brother, rather than to become the reproach of their
relations. He added, that the King himself knew but too well
how Sommerive treated them all, though, for the honor of the
family, they concealed his behavior from the public ; that this
last offence gave them inconceivable affliction. And after en-
treating me to assist him with my advice, he declared that he
would go himself, if his Majesty required it, to receive his or-

* Henry de Lorraine, Duke of Aiguillon, and afterward of Maienne.

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 85

ders, and would execute them, whatever they were, upon his
own brother ; and that, for himself, he would rather lose his
life than fail in the oath he had taken, to obey his master with
all the fidelity and zeal of a servant and subject.

To conceal from D'Aiguillon that I had been commissioned
by the King to come thither, I told him, that I would not advise
him to go to his Majesty, because I did not know whether he
was yet informed of the affair ; but that, in twenty-four hours,
I would give him such advice as I thought most for his interest,
(for so long it required to send to Fontainebleau to know his
Majesty's intentions). I, therefore, contented myself, at pres-
ent, with representing to him the atrociousness of Sommerive's
crime, and the fatal consequences that might attend it. He
exclaimed against it himself, with a sincerity which I thought
it my duty to relate to his Majesty, telling him, at the same time,
that he had only to pronounce what satisfaction he required,
the family fearing nothing so much as the loss of his favor.

Henry sent me notice, by Villeroi, that he was satisfied with
what D'Aiguillon had said to me, although he was convinced
that all this rage against Sommerive would not hinder them
carrying it with a high hand in public, as they had already
done upon other occasions of the same kind : he ordered me to
make the whole house of Lorraine sensible how greatly they
were indebted to his indulgence, in referring to them the chas-
tisement of Sommerive; that he expected they would imme-
diately oblige him to retire, though it were only to Soissons, as
being unworthy to stay in a place where his Majesty was ; that
D'Aiguillon should come and tell him what resolution they had
taken, in the meanwhile, till he should himself name the punish-
ment ; offer to be security for Sommerive's appearance, and even
conduct him to the Bastile, if such was the King's pleasure ; or
make him leave the kingdom, and not return till after the expi-
ration of two or three years. Henry insinuated, that it was this
last part he should take, although it required some consideration
on account of Sommerive's intrigues with Spain. The King had
been told, that this young nobleman had endeavored to prevail
upon the Count of St. Paul to go with him to Holland, with
an intention to enter into the service of the archdukes; that
he had taken the advice of Du Terrail, and, as soon as the fact
was committed, had sent some of his servants to Flanders. It

S6 SULLY

was neither to that country, nor to any other dependent upon
the Spaniards, which his JNlajesty chose he should retire to;
but toward Nancy, from whence he might pass to the Emperor's
court, or into Hungary ; that country being most agreeable to
his Majesty.

To this letter of Villeroi's was added a short billet, addressed
to me, by the King, and contained only these few words : " I
must tell you, that the best of the whole race is worth but
little : God grant I may be mistaken." However he was not dis-
pleased with D'Aigviillon's behavior, when he waited on him at
Fontainebleau : his Majesty only thought that he showed some
little affectation in endeavoring to extenuate his brother's of-
fence. The King told him, that it was his will Sommerive
should retire to Lorraine, and not stir from thence without his
permission. I was commissioned to notify this order to the
Duke of Mai'enne, his Majesty being willing, at the entreaties
of D'Aiguillon, to spare him the ungrateful task.

D'Aiguillon did not make a proper application of the lessons
the King gave him in relation to his brother. No one was
ignorant of the affection his Majesty had for Balagny:'' he
had lately given a proof of it, by maintaining him in the pos-
session of the grcffcs of Bordeaux, of which the contractors
endeavored to deprive him. D'Aiguillon had the imprudence
to quarrel with him upon some affairs of gallantry indeed,
and the baseness, some time after, to attack him when he was
almost alone, while himself was accompanied with a body of
armed men. The prejudice Henry already had to this family
increased the indignation he felt for this attempt. In the first
emotions of his anger, he writ to me, that being resolved to
punish D' Aiguillon for it, he earnestly entreated me to for-
get the friendship I had hitherto had for this family, since
I ought to set a much higher value upon that of my King.
This letter afforded me a proof of this prince's great knowl-
edge of mankind : he predicted to me, that all the obli-
gations I should confer on D'Aiguillon would be forgot, if
through any change of my fortune, I should be incapable
of adding to them : and this prediction has been fully accom-
plished.

^ Damien de Montluc, Lord of Ba- d'Amboise; he was, at that time, only
lagny, son of John, Prince of Cambray, twenty-five or twenty-six years old, and
and of Renee de Clermont de Bussy unmarried.

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 87

However, I was then persuaded of the contrary, and listening
only to what my friendship for the whole house of Lorraine
suggested to me, the King's letter, which his courier, meeting
me at my return from Sully, delivered to me at Montargis,
did not hinder me from answering his Majesty immediately,
and that only to do the very thing he had forbid me, which
was the soliciting a pardon for D'Aiguillon, without deferring
it till I went to court, which I proposed to do immediately
afterward. My letter was not unuseful to D'Aiguillon, when
he presented himself to his Majesty to clear himself of the
charge. This is what the King himself writ me — May 22:
" Your letter came very seasonably ; for he arrived this night,
and talked to me in such a manner, that I was scarce able to
restrain my anger. Certainly this youth becomes very inso-
lent." I did not, however, abandon his interest. When I went
to Fontainebleau, I found the King's resentment so violent,
that there was a necessity for all the perseverance the warmest
friendship is capable of to vanquish it. I obtained, at length,
that this affair should be left to me, to make up in the best
manner I could. I surmounted, with the same steadiness of
friendship, many other difficulties, which did not yield to this ;
and believed that all was forgotten on both sides, congratulat-
ing myself upon my success, when I heard in what manner
D'Aiguillon talked of this good office in public, and the grati-
tude he expressed to me for it.

Yet this man, base and faithless, dishonored himself and
me, a short time afterward, by completing the crime, which
I had so lately obtained his pardon for attempting, and pro-
cured Balagny to be assassinated. The letter his Majesty
writ to me upon it will give the reader the truest notion of
this crime. " My friend, you have doubtless heard of the
wicked action committed upon Balagny : I would not write
you an account of it, till I had seen all the information ; for,
on such occasions, the parties are not to be believed. Things
are worse than you can imagine : he has violated the promise
he made to you, and irreparably wounded his honor, by the
extreme cowardice and cruelty of falling upon a single man
with numbers. I had rather a son of mine were dead than that
he should be guilty of such an action. The bearer will tell
you the particulars. The relations of both have attempted to

88 SULLY

fight; but I have taken care to prevent it. Adieu. I love
you sincerely, and with this truth I conclude."

But Henry (for I felt too much horror at this indignity to
dwell on it any longer) was himself in fact to blame, since it
was through his easiness of temper, that the rage of duelling
had spread through the court, the city, and over the whole
kingdom : ^ and to such excess was it carried, that it gave
me, and even his Majesty himself, infinite fatigue and trouble,
to compose differences, and to hinder, each day, the disputants
from proceeding to the last extremities. Before the affair of
Balagny happened, the Baron de Courtaumer came to tell me,
that he was busy in reconciling his two nephews. Monsieur the
Prince of Conti, and the Prince of Joinville. Montigny quar-
relled, for no cause, with D'Epernon, whom I was ordered to
pacify. " For you know," said Henry in his letter, " that he
will always be the master." The forcibly carrying away of
a young lady, set by the ears together the families of La Force
and St. Germain. St. Germain, the son, who was the ravisher,
being sent for by the chancellor, in the King's name, left Paris,
instead of obeying, and went to his father, which made his
Majesty apprehensive that he would divulge, among foreigners,
some important orders which he could not be ignorant that
he had given La Force.

This easiness of temper in the King was the true cause of
that licentiousness and sedition which had infected the court
and the kingdom, and which his Majesty so deeply lamented:
the gentry had taken it from the nobility, and the nobility
from the princes of the blood. The Count of Soissons pub-
licly showed his discontent. The Prince of Conde, by in-
discreet sallies, some indeed only worthy of laughter, and
others of consequence enough to give great cause of uneasi-
ness to his Majesty, almost exhausted his patience. It was
believed, that marriage would cure his impetuosity and wild-
ness ; and Mademoiselle de Montmorency ^ was the wife the
King chose for him. It was this marriage that completed
Henry's domestic troubles, as we shall see in the following
year.

^ Lomenie computed, in 1607, how be full 4,000. " Mem. Histoire de

many _ French gentlemen had been France."

killed in duels since Henry IV came to ' Margaret Charlotte of Montmoren-

the Crown. The number was found to cy.

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 89

The difficulties that arose, concerning the marriage of
Mademoiselle de Mercoeur increased his dislike of the whole
house of Lorraine. She had been contracted to M. de Ven-
dome, in the year 1598, when the King took a journey to
Brittany. The parties were now of age to consummate the
marriage ; but the mother, and grandmother of the young
lady, had taken care to inspire her with such an aversion for
M. de Vendome, that she would not suffer him to speak to her.
The Prince of Conde, who was not then married, would have
been a more agreeable match, in all their opinions ; but, since
that could not take place, the duchess was unwilling to let
her daughter's large estates go out of the family. The King
could not help thinking, that the Dukes of Guise and Maienne
contributed to support this lady in her obstinate resistance
to his will. I often combatted this opinion, and represented
to his Majesty, that, on this occasion, he did not do them
justice, which in the end he had reason to be convinced of,
by the little opposition they made to his intentions, when they
were declared to them by the Marquis D'Oraison, whom they
had sent to his Majesty.

The readiest and the surest way for Henry to accomplish this
marriage was to have assumed his authority, and given them
an absolute command to fulfil the contract : but this prince ^^
had less inclination to take such measures on this occasion than
on any other. It only remained then, either to endeavor, by
gentleness and persuasion, to prevail upon the ladies, or to
have recourse to the decision of the law, which must undoubt-
edly have been in his favor, were his Majesty to be treated
with the same impartiality as any private man : but this was
to draw it out into length, by the delays and tricks of the
courts of justice. It would take up a considerable time to
bring up only the letters of attorney from Lorraine, without
which the proceedings could not be begun ; and it would be
two months before the affair could be terminated, although
his Majesty should interpose his authority, to oblige them to
dispense with the accustomed formalities in his favor. How-

^0 Henry, in his anger, threatened the only take the 100,000 crowns, but all her
Duchess de Mercceur to make her pay estates besides, if he was entitled to
200,000 crowns for damages, besides the them. Her daughter retired to a nun-
penalty of 100,000 for breach of cove- nery of Capuchins, with intent to take
nant. The duchess, on her part, caused the veil. " Mem. Histoire de France."
the King to be told, that he might not

90 SULLY

ever, gentle methods were far more eligible, since not only
the union of two persons, but that of several families, were
concerned in it. There still remained many resources for a
young woman forced from her relations, and obliged to marry,
in spite of herself, to regain her liberty, although all the cere-
monies were performed that should seem to have deprived her
of it, especially if she could not be prevented from privately
receiving bad counsels. For these reasons, therefore, I ad-
vised his Majesty to try gentle methods, in the long letter I
sent him in answer to his.

For this purpose many conferences were held at the houses
of the two duchesses, at that of the Duchess of Guise, aunt
to the young lady, and at the Princess of Conti's, during which
time M. de Vendome was kept at a distance, his Majesty having
sent him under the conduct of La Vallee into Brittany. As
for me, I thought no person better qualified to manage this
negotiation than Father Cotton. I advised the King to employ
him, and he succeeded so well, that at the time when the
King was most fully persuaded he should never terminate
this afifair but by the ordinary course of law, and had already
writ to the first president on this subject, this father, on a
sudden, gave him hopes that it would be concluded by other
means. The art of directing consciences, in which he excelled,
gave him up immediately the first point, and not the least es-
sential. They began to cease their invectives, which only novtr-
ished hatred and disgust. Father Cotton did not fail to go
as often as he could to the King, to give him an account of
the progress he had made ; and his Majesty, from time to time,
sent him to the chancellor and me to take our advice, and
was highly pleased with the service he did him upon this oc-
casion.

The mother and the daughter were the first that were pre-
vailed upon ; but not without the duchess's giving such free
scope to her resentment against the King, her relations, and
all the world, that Henry believed he should never find a
favorable moment to obtain her consent, but exhorted me, if
such a one ever offered, not to let it escape. The grand-
mother, and some other confidants of the duchess's, as La
Porte the confessor, continued a long time obstinate : but,
at length, all were appeased, and the marriage was cele-

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 91

brated/ The King was not quite freed from his suspicion that
the Guises, and all the princes of the house of Lorraine, sought,
in reality, to deceive him, under an appearance of the greatest
respect and deference ; for which reason, when the post of first
president of the chamber of accounts in Provence became va-
cant by the death of Beauville, and the Duke of Guise solicited
it for one of his friends, as likewise the Countess of Sault for
one of hers, he denied them both. " They have both been
supporters of the League," said he ; and this was all the reason
he gave me for it, when he writ to me to consult with the chan-
cellor about filling up this place with one more fit for it.

Not all the arguments I used to the King could prevent
him from giving, if I may use the expression, a right to every-
one to disturb his quiet, by continually bringing him informa-
tions against the most illustrious persons in the kingdom, as
well Catholics as Protestants. Sometimes he was told, that
the Duke of Bouillon, Du Plessis, and other heads of the
reformed religion, were levying troops ; sometimes that it was
agreed upon between them. Monsieur the Prince, Monsieur the
Count, and even all those that had been the greatest supporters
of the League against them, to take possession of several towns.
Another time it was said, that the Duke of Roanais held as-
sembles in Anjou, which Pont Courlai writ also to me: but
nothing so much alarmed his Majesty as the advice he re-
ceived from a gentleman of Poitou ; for this province was
always made the seat of rebellion. This man said, that he
had been present at assemblies of a great number of gentlemen,
who acted in the names of almost all the grandees of the
kingdom, beside the Protestants, in which he was a witness,
that they had fixed upon a day for taking possession of a
great number of towns, which he named, and had delivered
out money for the making provision of scaling-ladders, petards,
arms, and ammunition, necessary for the enterprise.

The King was at Fontainebleau without any train, and only
with a design to make some parties for hunting, when this
informer was presented to him: he sent him back to Paris,
with orders to wait on Sillery and Villeroi, to whom he gave

1 The seventh of July in the year fol- King shone all over with jewels of an

lowing. "The nuptials," says the inestimable value; he ran at the ring,

" Memoires de I'Hist. de France," and ^seldom failed of carrying the

"were splendid and magnificent: the prize."

92 SULLY

such exact memorials, that the King was no longer in doubt
of the truth of his report, and, full of apprehensions, returned
instantly to Paris through Melun, and entered the city at the
gate of St. Antoine, He sent St. Michael immediately for
me, having matters, he said, of the utmost consequence to com-
municate to me. My wife and my children being then in the
city with all the coaches of the house, I was obliged to wait till
one was sent me by Phelipeaux.

I found the King shut up in the Queen's little closet ; with
him were that princess, the chancellor, and Villeroi, busy in
examining those papers which had heated the lively imagina-
tion of Henry. " Well, Monsieur Obstinacy," said he to me
as I entered, " here is the war begun." " So much the better,
sire," said I ; " for it can only be against the Spaniards." " No,
no," answered he, " it is against much nearer neighbors, sup-
ported by all your Huguenots." "All the Huguenots?" re-
turned I. "Ah, sire, what makes you imagine so? I will
answer for many, that they do not entertain the least notion
of it, and I am ready to answer for almost all the rest, that
they dare not." " Did I not tell you, my dear," said his Maj-
esty, turning to the Queen, "that he would not believe this?
According to him, no one dare give me the least offence, and
it depends only upon myself to give law to all the world."
" It is true, sire," I replied, " and so you may whenever you
please."

Villeroi and Sillery attempted to support his Majesty's opin-
ion, that this was a most dangerous conspiracy. I represented
to them that it was great weakness to suffer themselves to be
intimidated thus by mere trifles : I took the paper out of their
hands, and could not help smiling when I found, that, of this
formidable body of rebels, only ten or a dozen poor inconsid-
erable gentlemen and soldiers were mentioned, whose persons
I knew, being, in reality, in my government ; and five or six
villages, as La Haye in Touraine, St. John d'Angle, La Roche-
posay, St. Savin, and Chauvigny le Blanc in Berry. " Pardieii,
sire," resumed I with some emotion, " these gentlemen mean
to jest both with your Majesty and me, by making these idle
reports of consequence enough to affect you with any appre-
hensions, and inducing you to take measures to prevent
what will never happen. The whole mystery is this : one

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 93

of your subjects has an inclination to get a hundred crowns
from you."

" Notwithstanding all you can say," replied the King, " I
am convinced that there is a necessity for my going thither,
or else that you should set out in two days, and give proper
orders there for keeping everything quiet."

" If you would consent, sire," replied I, after listening pa-
tiently to a long detail he made me of the artillery, ammunition,
and other warlike stores necessary for this expedition, " to let
me manage it my own way, I will engage to bring this affair
to a conclusion, without so much trouble or expense."

" Pardicu," said Henry, " you are the most obstinate man
I ever saw ; well, what would you say ? "

" Sire," answered I, " I only desire you will give me Moret
the prevot, and twenty archers, and I will bring you a good
account of these rebels."

" You will have it so," said Henry, vanquished by my perse-
verance ; " but if any accident should happen, you will have
all the blame."

However, the King's fears were wholly groundless. My
M'hole army consisted of twenty horse, with which I seized all
those persons that had been accused, very few of whom were
punished, his Majesty finding most of them innocent, and that
the others were not worth troubling himself with.

The assembly of Protestants, which it was necessary should
be held this year, for appointing the two deputies-general,
seemed to the King to merit still more attention, on account
of the present situation of affairs. He ordered me to assist
at it for the third time ; and that I might do so with the greater
conveniency, the assembly was summoned to meet at Gergeau,
of which I was governor, and where I could direct everything
from my estate of Sully, which extended to the gates of that
city. I shall be silent as to the article of my instructions.
On October 3, when I wrote for the first time to Villeroi, the
assembly had not yet taken any form, although the members
had met some days before ; for they still expected some of
the provincial deputies. When I found, that, by one single
word, I had put all the disaffected to silence, I took upon myself
to answer for it to his Majesty, that nothing would be done in it
contrary to his will ; which, however, he could not be persuaded

94 SULLY

to believe. All the letters I received from the King and Ville-
roi were filled with complaints of the Protestants. " Send back
my courier immediately," said the King in one of his letters,
" there are people at Gergeau whom there is no dealing with :
they have treated you like a Catholic ; I knew they would do
so : and four days ago, I saw a letter from Saumur which pre-
scribed the manner."

It is certain, that there was, at first, some tumult in the as-
sembly, and upon this account in particular, that his Majesty
had sent two Catholic governors into the cities of Montendre
and Tartas, which they alleged had been yielded to them by
the King. They supported their demands by the tenor of their
edicts, and complained that Caumont had been taken from
them in the same manner. Chambaut, Du Bourg, and Du
Ferrier, were sent, by the assembly, to me at Sully, with mes-
sages full of submission to his Majesty, to whom they had
likewise resolved to depute two or three of their body upon
the same subject. As I knew his Majesty would not receive
this deputation favorably, I endeavored to dissuade them from
that design : I represented to them, that I had no commission
from the King to treat upon this article ; but that I would write
about it to him. I excused myself from having anything to
do with regard to Moncenis, a place upon which they had
the same pretensions as the two former, because it belonged
to Monsieur the Count.

I wrote to Villeroi what the assembly had proposed, charg-
ing him to represent to the King, that, if he was willing this
affair should not be protracted, it would be necessary to satisfy
such of their demands as were just, or promise, at least, to do
so, when he should return an answer to them : to which his
Majesty consented. This article despatched, which was one of
the eight proposed by the assembly, I told them, that, of
those that remained, five were to be brought before the council,
as falling under the cognizance of that tribunal ; and that they
ought now to settle the principal alifair, which was the appoint-
ing the two deputies. His Majesty notified his intentions to
them on this subject, which were conformable to what he
had declared to them before, as has been seen when I treated
of the general assembly held at Chatellerault : and this affair
was likewise concluded to the entire satisfaction of both par-

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 95

ties, by means of a proposal I made to the King, to appoint
Villarnou to be deputy for the nobihty, and Mirande for
those of the second order. The former would have been
chosen the preceding year, if he had not been proposed in a
manner contrary to the form prescribed by the King. He
went immediately to receive his orders, bearing a letter from
me to the King, who summed up to him, in a few words, the
duties of his office, and seemed very well satisfied with his
choice.

The assembly, after this, continued no longer than was neces-
sary to receive the brevet of the deputies' acceptation, and all
was over before the first of November. His Majesty, in every
letter he wrote to me, recommended to me, in particular, to be
speedy in settling this business ; to return to him as soon as
possible, and always concluded with his usual expressions of
goodness. The last courier that I despatched to him found
him at the arsenal, from whence, as Villeroi informed me in
his letter, he returned at seven in the evening, making him
write to me at eight, not being willing to do it himself, for
fear of keeping the courier too long.

When I returned, I gave his Majesty a more exact acount
than I had done in my letters, of all that had passed at Gergeau,
and of the pacific dispositions in which I had found a great
number of the best and most considerable persons of the Prot-
estant body. His Majesty was then at Fontainebleau, where
he stayed as long this year as any of the former ones : he had
returned thither the middle of May, after that short journey
to Paris which I have mentioned, and stayed there all June
and July; in August he went back to Paris, from whence he
went to St. Germain, and afterward to Monceaux, where he
stayed fifteen days ; and, passing through Fontainebleau,
came to Paris the beginning of October, while I was still at
Gergeau ; in the middle of October he went again to Fontaine-
bleau, where he stayed all the remainder of that month, and part
of November, and then returned to Paris to despatch his affairs.
I have already observed, that this manner of living was only
fatiguing to himself, and a few of his principal ministers.

He was not, this year, afflicted with any dangerous dis-
temper. In a letter he wrote to me from Fontainebleau, dated
June 2d, he says : " I have had a fever, which has lasted two

96 SULLY

days and a night, but it only proceeds from a cold, which, by
the help of God, I hope will not have any bad consequences.
I am resolved to take more care of my health than I have done
hitherto : this you may depend upon, as also upon the assurance
I give you of my affection for you." Yet he still continued
the fatigue of the chase. From St. Germain he wrote to me,
that he had taken a stag in an hour: that he went afterward
to bed, where he lay another hour, and then went to walk
in his gardens, and to visit his manufacturers. Henry, while
this cold in his head continued, wet eight or ten handkerchiefs
in a day : he had, at the same time, a defluxion in his ears and
throat, which was very troublesome to him. And afterward
preparing himself, by purges, to drink the waters of Spa, he
was seized with a looseness, from which he suffered violent
pains for two days, and W'liich left a weakness upon him for a
considerable time afterward. This was a disorder that pre-
vailed not only over all that district, from whence his Majesty
wrote to me, that he had with him the good man Villeroi, and
above a hundred gentlemen of his court, who were afflicted with
it, but likewise in Paris, and all the neighboring parts.

Almost all the children of his Majesty were sick during the
month of May. In this letter to me, in which he sent me an
account of it, his paternal tenderness made him enter into the
smallest circumstances relating to the state of their health,
none of which, indeed, were indifferent to me. In his letter
he sent me from Fontainebleau, dated May i6th, he says:
" I am in great affliction, having all my children ill here : my
daughter De Verneuil has got the measles ; my son, the
Dauphin, vomited twice yesterday; he has a slight fever, at-
tended with a drowsiness, and a sore throat : from these symp-
toms, the physicians think he likewise will have the measles.
Last night, my daughter began to have a little fever : my son
d'Orleans has a continued one ; but it is more violent one day
than another." This prince's illness was most dangerous, and
lasted longer than any of the other. " Judge," continued he,
" whether, with all this, I must not suffer great uneasiness. I
will every day give you an acount of my children's health."
Happily they all recovered. " Whatever it shall please God
to do with them," said this prince to me. " I wall submit pa-
tiently to his will : all the dispensations of his providence are

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 97

good." He inquired, with his usual goodness, how my son
did, who, he had been told, had the small-pox. He chose
Noisy for the place of his children's residence during the sum-
mer, and would not suffer them to be removed to St. Germain
till November, at which time he sent me orders, as usual, to
have them carried thither, with Madame de Montglat, in the
coaches and litters of the Queen and Queen Margaret ; order-
ing me to tell Madame de Verneuil to send hers thither like-
wise, the small-pox then raging at Paris.

The son of this lady, who was called the Marquis de Ver-
neuil,^ was, by the King his father, designed for the church ;
and the bishopric of Metz becoming vacant, he had some
thoughts of giving it to him ; but the procuring this prince to
be nominated, the illegitimacy of his birth, and his youth, for
he was yet but a child, were three obstacles to his advancement
to this see. It was in the power of the Chapter of Metz to
remove the first^, by admitting the young prince as a candidate ;
or, if that was too difficult to be granted, to appoint the Cardinal
of Guise either to be bishop or administrator, because, from his
hands, it might afterward easily pass into those of the young
De Verneuil. This chapter having both a right to choose them-
selves a bishop, in case of a vacancy, by resignation, or death,
and of giving the administration of the revenues of the bish-
opric to any person they pleased, there was no necessity for
using many persuasions with them ; for, as soon as they per-
ceived that it would please the King to have his son appointed,
he was admitted and chosen unanimously.

But it was the Pope alone who could grant the necessary
dispensation on the other two articles, the birth and age of
the young prince. His Majesty, to prevail upon him to grant
this favor, sent the Duke of Nevers to Rome.'^ Valerio, the
courier from Rome, was received in a most obliging manner
at Paris, and retained there until the end of March. The
Marchioness of Verneuil neglected nothing to secure the suc-
cess of this affair. However, all that could be obtained from

2 Henry de Bourbon, Marquis, or, ac- 400,000 livres a year in benefices, when

cording to others, Duke of Verneuil, he gave them all up in 1668, to marry

afterward Bishop of Metz. If Paul V Charlotte Sequier, widow of Maximil-

showed himself so difficult on account ien Francis, third Duke of Sully. He

of the bishopric of Metz, Innocent X died in 1682.

showed himself much more so: for he ' The memoirs of those times take

positively refused to give the purple to notice of the magnificent entry and re-

this prince. He enjoyed more than ception of the duke at Rome.

SULLY

the Pope, was a dispensation for the birth. He refused the
second request, as being absolutely contrary to the canons and
discipline of the Church ; but, by the force of entreaties and
solicitations, they drew from him, at length, that kind of appro-
bation, which, in the Roman style, is called expectative, and
that the young prince might bear, at present, the title of Bishop
of Metz, Valerio brought this news to Fontainebleau the lat-
ter end of April, and, by the King's command, I acquainted
Madame de Verneuil with it immediately.

The little complaisance which Paul V, on this occasion,
showed his Majesty, was well repaid by him, when, at that
pontiff's request, the cardinals and prelates of France renewed
their solicitations to Henry, that the decrees of the Council of
Trent might be published in the kingdom : the King, without
suffering himself to be moved by their repeated attempts on
this head, replied, that since they could not get this council ap-
proved by Francis I, Henry H, and Charles IX, although they
had not the same obligations to the Protestants as he had,
nor had granted them such favorable edicts as he had done,
they must not expect that he would ever give his consent to
it. He showed them the mischief such a grant was capable
of doing in the kingdom, and declared, that he had no inclina-
tion to establish the Inquisition in France ; and that he thought
it very surprising, for he was aware of that objection, that
such a strange clause should be made one of the conditions
of his absolution. All therefore that they could obtain from
his Majesty was, that the mass should be permitted in Beam.*

This year the Roman college lost the Cardinals de Lorraine
and Baronius. The Duke of Florence, and the famous Scaliger
died also about the same time ; and in France, the Chancellor
de Bellievre, Father Ange de Joyeuse, and Miron.^

* The exercise of the Catholic relig-
ion had been re-established at Beam
ever since the time of the edict of
Nantes. There is therefore a mistake
here in these memoirs; and, instead of
the mass, it should be read the Jesuits;
those fathers being established there
this year by the King's edict of Febru-
ary i6th. They were obliged for this to
the solicitations of the Bishop of Olle-
ron.

» Francis Miron, master of requests,
superintendent of the government of
the Isle of France, president of the
great council, provost of Paris, and
lieutenant-civil within the provostship

thereof, etc., died in the month of June,
this year, extremely regretted on ac-
count of his probity, and other good
qualities. His party esteemed fiim so
much for the steadiness with which he
had opposed the superintendent on oc-
casion of the order of council which
had been made the year before for the
suppression of the annuities of the Ho-
tel de Ville, and of the bold remon-
strances he made to the King on that
behalf, that they got together in a body,
and came, in a seditious manner, to
defend his house against the threaten-
ings of the council. Perefixe agrees,
that the inquiry into the case of the

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV

Some new embellishments were made at Fontainebleau and
Monceaux. The Bridge Marchand '^ was built at Paris, in the
place of that called the Bridge Aux Meuniers. I gave the
King a design for La Place Dauphine, by which leaving the
fund to be managed by the undertaker for his own advantage,
it might be finished in three years. It was offered to the first
president, and to the Parliament. I also drew a plan for the
bridge of Rouen ; which my son presented to his Majesty,
for I was then upon the spot. Henry thought nothing could
be better contrived for the conveniency of the ground. The
bridge of Mante was finished this year. In Bourbonnois, I
deposited several pieces of artillery, which procured me the
thanks of that province by St. Geran.

These works of necessity, or of public utility, might have
been carried much further, if the King had been willing to
follow the advice I gave him, to sacrifice some of his private
expenses to such laudable undertakings. The money he lost
at play only would have answered those purposes. At one
time, I was ordered to pay Edward Fernandez,'^ a Portuguese,
34,000 pistoles which he had lost to him. This order is dated
August 27th. He often sent me others for 2,000 or 3,000 pis-

annuitants was in itself most just; and
yet blames the authors of it: " Be-
cause," says he, " the greatest part of
those annuities having passed through
several hands, or been divided, many
families must be put to great trouble
by it. Miron," adds he, " earnestly re-
quested the citizens to retire, and not
to make him criminal; assuring them
they had nothing to fear; that they had
to do with a King who was as great as
wise, as gentle as equitable; and who
would not suffer himself to be influ-
enced by the advice of evil counsellors."

But another action, which does real
honor to M. de Sully (taken out of the
" Memoires pour I'Hist. de France "),
was, his soliciting Henry IV on behalf
of the President Miron, brother of the
deceased, who had resigned the office of
lieutenant-civil to^ him, and afterward
of his son. The King said to him: " I
am surprised you should desire my fa-
vor for persons whom you formerly so
much hated." " And, sire," replied
Sully, " I am more surprised to find
you hate people you formerly so much
loved, and who love you, and have done
you good service." The Queen, at the
recommendation of Conchini, procured
this office for Nicholis Le Gcai, the
King's attorney of the Chatelet.

* So called after the name of
Charles Le Marchand, captain of the
arquebusiers and archers of Paris, who
undertook, with the King's permission,

to build the said bridge at his own
costs and expenses, on certain condi-
tions, which were granted to him, and
among others, that it should bear his
name." " Journal de L'Etoile."

This bridge, which formerly was
called Pont-aux-Colombes (the Pigeon-
bridge), because pigeons were sold on
it, had afterward the name of Pont-aux-
j\Ieuniers (the Millers' bridge), because
there was a mill under every arch. It
had been broke down ever since the
year 1596 by a flood, on December 22d,
between five and six o'clock in the
evening, crushing under its ruins up-
ward of SOD persons, who were for the
most part, as it was said, of the number
of those who had enriched themselves
at the massacre of St. Bartholomew;
and it had ever since continued unre-
paired. It was begun this year, and
finished the next. It took fire twelve
years after, being of wood, and was
burned down, together with another
bridge, called Pont-au-Change, which
was rebuilt with stone in 1639; and the
two bridges were united in one, which,
at present; is called Pont-au-Change.
See " Antiquities and Descriptions oi
Paris."

_^This Edward Fernandez is taken no-
tice of in the " Memoirs of Bassom-
pierre," as being a rich Portuguese
banker, who lent money to the cour-
tiers for play, on pledges, and at large
interest.

lOO

SULLY

toles,'^ and many more for sums less considerable. However
it must be confessed, that this passion for play never hindered
him from agreeing to every proposal in which the public good
was concerned.

A dreadful devastation ° was made by the Loire, in the
month of October. In my journey from D'Olivet to Orleans,
I expected to have been involved in it. This whole passage
was one continued sea, in which the boats swam over the tops
of the trees and houses the water had yet left standing. How-
ever, no accident happened to myself ; but the boat, which
carried me, stuck in its return, and fell in two pieces, but for-
tunately all the passengers saved themselves by swimming.
The desolation was extreme, and the damage infinite. In the
petitions of the injured towns and villages, not only a total

' " I do not know," says M. de Pere-
fixe, " what answer to make to those
who charge him with being fonder of
cards and dice than was becoming a
great king; and that besides he played
ill, being eager to win, timorous when
large sums were depending, and out of
temper when he lost." It requires no
answer; for it must be owned, that it
is a blot in the life of this ^reat prince.
How can one justify a passion for play,
when pushed to the degree it was by
Henry IV? What can be more perni-
cious in the master of a whole nation?
What example can be worse? What
can have a stronger tendency to the
subversion of order, and the corrup-
tion of manners?

We find, on this subject, in the
" Memoirs for the History of France,"
a story as pleasant as it is pleasantly
told.—" M. de Crequy, afterward Duke
of Lesdiguieres and Marcchal of
France, lost so much money that one
day, coming from the King's, in a man-
ner out of his senses, he met M. de
Guise, who was going to the castle, to
whom he said: Friend, friend, where
are the guards placed to-day? ' On
v.'hich M. de Guise, stepping back two
or three paces, said, ' Excuse me, sir,
I am not of this country'; and imme-
diately went to the King, who laughed
heartily at the story."

The Marechal de liassompierre says,
that Pimentel, the foreigner, already
mentioned, " won upward of 200,000
crowns, which he carried off; and
came back to France the following year,
where he made another good harvest."
It is reported, that the stratagem he
made use of to win so much was to
get into his hands all the dice which
were in the shops at Paris, and sub-
stituting false dice, which he had got
made, in the place of them. But what
some people have said, that Henry IV
was informed of the cheat, and coun-

tenanced it, with design to impoverish
his courtiers, and thereby to make them
more submissive to him, ought to be
looked upon as a mere stroke of satire.
The Duke of Epernon lost considerable
sums, and all his jewels. The Duke
of Biron also lost, in one year, more
than 500,000 crowns.

" This devastation lasted twenty-four
hours, and came in an instant. Had
not the banks broke down, the city of
Tours must have been laid under water,
and Blois ran a great risk. M. de Sul-
ly, who was then at Sully, with great
difficulty saved himself: both he and his
whole duchy were in great danger.
" Mem. Histoire de France."

According to Le Mercure Framjois,
this misfortune happened twice, in this
year, in the Loire: once toward the end
of winter, after a frost; the second
time, in the beginning of summer, by
the sudden melting of tne snow on the
mountains of Velai and Auvergne: it
places none of those floods in the month
of October. " The loss of men, women,
children, cattle, castles, mills, houses,
and all sorts of goods, was inestimable.
There was not a bridge on this river,
which has a course of more than 500
leagues, which had not some of its
arches broke down. The force of the
water made breaches in all the banks.
The low grounds were covered with it
quite to the skirts of the hills; the
lands, which are very fruitful there,
were for a long time overflowed, there
being no vent for the water to run off;
and became quite barren, being cov-
ered with sand and stones, which the
water had brought from .Auvergne."

This year was called the year of the
hard winter, that season being unusual-
ly severe. Henry IV said his beard
froze in bed with the Queen by him.
He had some frozen bread given him
on the twenty-third of January, which
he would not suffer to be thawed.

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV loi

discharge of the taille was demanded, but likewise a speedy
and effectual succor, at least for their most urgent necessities,
without which most part of the lands must remain untilled,
and the houses be deserted. " God," said Henry, in his answer
to a letter I wrote to him upon this terrible accident ; " has given
me subjects, that I may preserve them as my children. Let
them meet with tenderness and charity from my council. Alms
are always highly acceptable to God; and in cases of public
misery, more especially so. It would lie heavy on my con-
science, if I neglected to do everything I can for their relief."
I seconded, with all my power, the King's pious intentions.

In the same letter I obtained three little gratuities for differ-
ent persons: the profits of a mill, at the gates of Paris, for
one ; the remainder of some trees, that had been cut down, for
another ; and the timber, which had served to repair the stone
bridge at Mante, for the third.

The merit and learning of Messieurs Fenouillet and D'Abeins,
so well known throughout the whole kingdom, encouraged
me to request, for the first, the reversion of the bishopric of
Poitiers ; and, for the second, the first bishopric which should
become vacant, both which were promised me. I set out
immediately after for Sully ; but I had scarce left his Majesty,
when news was brought him of the death of the Bishop of
Montpelier, which he instantly sent to inform me of. I was of
opinion, that I should make some alteration in the favor I
had obtained of the King. I therefore wrote to him, that Mont-
pelier being full of Protestants, it seemed to me to require,
that a man as eloquent as the Abbe Fenouillet should be made
bishop of it ; and that the mild and moderate disposition of the
Abbe d'Abiens rendered him absolutely fit for the bishopric
of Poitiers, that province having many hot and violent spirits
in it that required tempering. Henry read my letter to the
courtiers about him, and, smiling, asked them whether the
Catholics could have made a better disposition.^" Fervaque
was so dangerously ill, that I advised his Majesty to think of

"> Perefixe relates this fact something ties; and besides was the son of a father

differently: "The bishopric of Poi- who had served equally well with his

tiers being become vacant, Rosny ear- sword in the wars, and with his genius

nestly recommended one Fenouillet to in embassies. Some time after the

him, who was esteemed a man of learn- bishopric of Montpelier became vacant,

ing, and a good preacher. The King, on which the King, of his own motion,

notwithstanding this recommendation, sent for Fenouillet, and gave it to him;

gave it to the Abbot of La Rocheposai, but on condition, that he should take

who also possessed many good quali- it as an obligation to him alone."

I02 SULLY

disposing of the very considerable posts he held in Normandy.
But he soon destroyed our opinion of his danger, by writing,
some days afterward, that if a commission was sent him to hold
the states of that province, he found himself able to preside
at the assembly.

The treaty of 1564, between France and Lorraine, daily
suffered some new difficulties relating to the limits of the coun-
try of Messin, which determined the King to send commis-
sioners upon the spot. These were chosen by the chancellor
and me, out of the council and elsewhere. Another work,
no less useful, and much more considerable, was to order a
report to be given in, upon exact views, of all the encroach-
ments made by our neighbors in different parts of the frontiers,
and especially upon the confines of Champaign, with Franche-
Comte, and Lorraine. Chatillon, the engineer, to whom I com-
mitted this task, executed it with the utmost exactness. He
made it clear, that the King of Spain, and the Duke of Lor-
raine, had unjustly appropriated to themselves a great number
of fiefs, and even whole villages, as the village of Pierre Court,
the town of Passeran, the lordship of Commercy, and many
others, which it would be too tedious to enumerate here.

This work was but a small part of what, by his Majesty's
orders, I had undertaken. The most exact plans of all the
coasts and frontiers of France were to be drawn. The Duke
of Maienne and the inhabitants of Antibes having put to sale
the lands they had in the neighborhood of that city, the King
was desirous of purchasing them, which, when known, was
sufficient to make them set such a price upon those lands as
disgusted his Majesty, who ordered them to be told, that they
might sell their land to whomsoever they pleased, but that
he would put a governor into Antibes, who might probably
make them repent of their injustice to himself.

Let us come to the finances. There was a new regulation
made, directed to the treasurers of the exchequer, of the pri-
vate expenses of the posts, of the Swiss League, of the ord-
nance, of the extraordinary of the wars, and the extraordinary
on this side the mountains, and the rest, which prescribed them
still a more exact method for giving in their accounts, and
placed them in the lowest dependence on their superintendent,
without a precept from whom they had scarce the power of

SIDE LIGHTS ON THE REIGN OF HENRY IV 103

doing anything. This regulation was extended, Hkewise, even
to the registers and the secretary of the council. I put in the
same subjection those who acted under me in every other
business : I obliged Lichani, under whose direction the streets
of Paris were paving, to come every Wednesday and Saturday
noon, to give me an account of the payment and employment
of his workmen.

By a circular letter sent to all the managers of the finances,
I forbade them to place any more, in their accounts, such
articles as had been once rejected, or reduced by the council,
leaving no means to recover them but that of petition; and
that they might not plead want of rules, I sent them forms
drawn up with clearness and exactness. They were obliged
even to quote the date, and the signatures of the patents and
edicts of council that were there mentioned. The regulation of
the fees of the chamber of accounts, and another, concerning
the money embezzled by the treasurers of France, and the
receivers-general, was joined to the former. This new scheme
brought the King, at present, 100,000 crowns profit, which
would be doubled, when it came to be perfectly observed.
The chamber of accounts did not let go its fees but with
a great deal of trouble, not even when it was made ap-
pear upon how false a supposition they had been estab-
lished. I was obliged even to get a formal order from his
Majesty, to obtain from them a delivery of the registers, for
which I had occasion. I had a great deal of trouble with the
procurer-general, and the presidents of that chamber, to make
them verify an edict with respect to those who paid their rents,
and for the extinction of 48,000 livres of rents settled by com-
position.

I declared to the sovereign courts, and the office of finances
of Languedoc, the resolution of the King upon several ques-
tions which they had sent to me, respecting rights of presence,
feudal or seigneurial rights, supplement of the Crown lands,
new purchases, the Crown lands of Navarre, rights of traite
foraine et domaniale, payments upon cloths, and particularly the
taille reelle, upon which the council determined, with one voice,
that the prince, the officers of the Crown, and the King himself
being obliged to pay it, for the lands which they possessed in
that province, it must be paid by everyone else, both cities

I04 SULLY

and communities. I ordered Maussac to carry letters concern-
ing all this, to the Parliament of Toulouse, the treasurers of
France, and the farmers of the gabelles. I directed the edict
for the repurchase of the registers to M. de Verdun, first presi-
dent of that Parliament, that he might see it registered, which
he did without any difficulty or subterfuge. He wrote, at
the same time, that he had proceeded to make a compensation
to the registers of the several courts ; and assured me of the
exact submission of the Parliament to the King's will. To
this he added some personal acknowledgments, and thanked
me, among other things, for having sent such a commissioner
as Colange, a man of soft address, and insinuating behavior.

I do my best to suppress all particularities, which must
naturally be tedious ; and shall therefore say nothing of the
letters which I wrote to the procurer-general of Dauphine, to
the Sieur Marion, and to the treasurers of Burgundy upon the
repurchase of the domain, upon the late regulations, and upon
every other subject.

When I saw the year drawing to an end, I wrote to the
King at Fontainebleau, that his presence was necessary for
a general view of the finances : that I wanted his orders for a
thousand things, such as his garrisons, his troops, the galleys,
the officers of the Dauphin's household, and of the children
of France ; that, by his absence, many other afifairs were left
unsettled, which, by those who had them in charge, were
considered as merely of my invention, and indifferent to him.
I shall honestly confess, that I have always endeavored to
join his Majesty with his ministers in the management of busi-
ness, because, in reality, the best regulations come to nothing,
unless it plainly appear that neglect will be punished by the
displeasure of the prince.

ROCHELLE

AND

THE GREAT CABAL

Carbtnal txt Mit^tUtii

(Armand Jean Du Plessis)

ARMAND JEAN DU PLESSIS, CARDINAL DE RICHELIEU

1585 — 1642

Armand Jean du Plessis, Cardinal and Due de Richelieu, was bom at
Paris in 1585 and died there in 1642. He was educated for the army,
but, following the example of his elder brother, forsook arms for the
Church. In 1607 he was consecrated Bishop of Lu9on, and at the States-
General in 1614, as a representative of the clergy, he attracted royal notice.
In 1616 he was secretary of war, but by intrigue was compelled to return
to his diocese. But through happy circumstances he was able to effect a
reconciliation between Louis XIII and the Queen-mother, and thence-
forward the foundation of Richelieu's influence was solidly laid. He
formed an alliance with the powerful favorite, the Due de Luynes, and in
1622 was named cardinal, and two years later, 1624, he was made min-
ister of state — a position which, although frequently menaced, and con-
stantly beset by every variety of court intrigue, he retained to the end of
his life.

His first important measure was the conclusion of the alliance with
England, by the marriage of Henrietta, sister of the King, with Charles,
then Prince of Wales, in 1624. His successful conduct of the war of the
Valteline, an affair of much delicacy for a cardinal, as presenting the
Pope himself as the antagonist of France, tended still more to strengthen
his power. His enemies, however, were constantly on the watch for
opportunities of undermining his influence, and even of bringing about
his death. The Queen withdrew her favor, and the King, while he trusted
him implicitly, never ceased to fear him. The crisis of the struggle took
place on December 11, 1630, when Richelieu himself believed that his fate
was inevitable. His disgrace, indeed, had been decided ; the King fearing
to meet him face to face, had refused him an audience. His attempts to
force an entrance to the King at the Luxembourg were defeated ; but
Louis, in his weak fear of Richelieu, having withdrawn to Versailles, the
cardinal there succeeded in obtaining an audience, and having once effec-
tually overborne the weakness and alarmed the fear of the sovereign, his
supremacy remained from that day firmly and irrevocably established.
This famous day is known as La Joiirn^e des Dupes. Richelieu's inter-
nal administration of France has been severely criticised. He was reck-
less and unscrupulous in the use of means against his enemies, and the
expenditure which his foreign wars entailed led to many and oppressive
impositions. His own personal expenditure was magnificent even to
prodigality, but he is acquitted of all sordid schemes of self-aggrandize-
ment. Notwithstanding his many distracting occupations, the writings
which he left behind fifl several volumes. Some of these, ascetical or
controversial, were written before his entrance into political life. Of his
later writings, his " Memoirs " have attracted much notice. He even
indulged occasionally in literature, and wrote two plays of indifferent
reputation. His letters are numerous, and many of them full of interest.
He was a liberal patron of literature, and to him France owes the estab-
lishment of the royal printing-presses and the foundation of the French
Academy.

106

ROCHELLE AND THE GREAT CABAL

THE citizens of La Rochelle were at the last extremity of
suffering from the siege. They had no longer any
grass on their counterscarps, ox-hides or horse-hides,
boots, shoes, straps, belts, leather-bags of which they made jelly
with brown sugar, and sweet broths which they swallowed for
food, the rich starving along with the poor. They resolved,
therefore, to ask for mercy and beg the cardinal (Richelieu)
to inform the King that they would send deputies to him to sur-
render. This request was granted, and they sent the deputies
on October 27, 1628. The day before the men of La Rochelle
who were in the English army arrived without knowing any-
thing about each other. The cardinal during the conference of
the men from La Rochelle with him told them that their broth-
ers who were in the English army had already obtained pardon.
As they could not believe this he made Vincent and Gobert
come to them. They embraced with tears, not daring to speak
of affairs, because it had been forbidden on penalty of their
lives. This done, they returned to the city, the cardinal hav-
ing promised to do all that he could in their favor with the
King.

The audacity which always accompanies rebellion was so
profoundly stamped upon the spirit of these unfortunates that
although they were nothing but the mere shadows of living-
men, and that their lives depended only on the clemency of the
King, they dared nevertheless to propose to the cardinal their
desire to make a general treaty for all those of their party, and
to have a continuation of their old privileges, franchises, and
immunities save those which might give rise to new troubles.
They asked that Madame de Rohan might be included in the
treaty, and restored to the possession of her property ; and

that M. de Soubise should also be included. They sought that

107

io8 RICHELIEU

part of what they had done should be given to the EngHsh,
that nothing should be put into the treaty which should permit
the destruction of the city, nor the changing of their govern-
ment. They demanded that the treaty should be called a
treaty of peace and not a pardon, that the mayor should be
maintained in office, and that the troops should march out, with
drums beating and matches lighted.

The cardinal ridiculed their impudence, and told them that
they ought to expect nothing more than pardon, and that they
did not deserve even that. On one hand he well knew that in
ten or twelve days he would have them as if with a halter about
their necks, but on the other hand he considered haste neces-
sary to avoid many inconveniences and so that Montagu should
find peace an accomplished fact and that the navy should see
it done without his consent, which would make more easy the
affairs of the King, with regard to England, Spain, or in
France. On October 28, 1628, the treaty, or rather the pardon,
was signed, by which the King gave property to those citizens
of the city who were still there, and granted the exercise of the
so-called reformed religion in La Rochelle. On the 29th they
sent twelve deputies to the King, whom Marshal de Bassom-
pierre, on horseback with all his suite, conducted on foot to the
lodgings of the King.

The cardinal received them and presented them to the King,
from whom they begged forgiveness, having confessed their
crimes and their frequent lapses into rebellion, protesting their
regret, and pledging complete fidelity in the future, and pray-
ing remembrance of their former service to his royal father.
His Majesty replied that he prayed God it was from their
hearts that they made these pledges and not from necessity
only ; that he knew very well they had always been malicious,
and had tried their best to shake off his yoke ; that he would
pardon their rebellions and that if they would be faithful sub-
jects he would be a good prince, and if their actions warranted
it he would keep all his promises to them.

On October 30th some troops were sent to seize the fort of
Tadon, and others to La Rochelle to seize the gates, towers,
squares, and their cannons and munitions, and remove their
troops. They found only sixty-four Frenchmen and ninety
Englishmen, all the rest having died with hunger and exposure.

ROCHELLE AND THE GREAT CABAL 109

The cardinal also entered the town. The mayor coming with
six constables to salute him, he commanded him to dismiss his
men and not to act any longer as mayor, under penalty of his
life. They found the city full of dead people, in the rooms,
in the houses, in the streets and public squares. The weakness
of those who were left was such that they could not bury the
dead, but let them lie where they fell. And yet there seemed to
be no infection from the corpses, they being so attenuated that
they merely dried up. The first of November in the morning
the cardinal said mass in the Church of St. Marguerite.

In the afternoon the King made his entry, armed and on
horseback, having first sent in all sort of provisions. In this
we must remark the great clemency of the King, who did not
content himself only with sparing their lives, but also sent
them bread to nourish them in their extreme need, without which
the greater part of those left in the city would have perished in
a day or two. The cardinal advised the King to send the mayor
out of the city, on account of the great inhumanity he had
showed to the citizens, having preferred that they should
starve rather than surrender ; to send to Niort Madame de
Rohan, the dowager, as the torch which had inflamed these
people ; and to send back in the English ships the deputies of
La Rochelle who were in that army, so that they might tell
the news of what they had seen. His Majesty also after that
commanded that the walls and fortifications of that town, so
prominent in rebellion, should be destroyed. The evil nature
of its inhabitants, and the exemplary punishment demanded by
the service of the State caused the King to destroy all the forti-
fications no longer necessary, even to the Citadel of St. Martin-
en-Re, which was the finest fortress in France, and too dan-
gerous to be left standing. It would have taken 2,000 men to
defend it. This would have been too great an expense. His
Majesty, however, preserved the little fort of La Free, so as
always to have a fort assured by which to land troops in the
island of Re when he might wish to do so.

Toiras opposed this as well as he could. But the reasons of
state were so evident that he did not Insist on his views. The
King gave him 100,000 livres by way of recompense. The cap-
ture of this city might have been hastened by several methods
of procedure. They might have cut off their water, which

no RICHELIEU

would have been easy. They might have destroyed the crops
of wheat and vegetables which the besieged grew on the side
of their counterscarp, on which the people lived for two
months by their own confession. They might have begun
sooner to treat with rigor those who entered or left the town,
with the certainty that the example and punishment would
have stopped those unfortunates who, unable to get out, and
suffering in the city, would have insisted on an earlier surrender.
And they might on the return of the King have attacked the
town in force, it being destitute of troops, and only filled with
citizens little accustomed to fatigue and incapable of enduring
fighting coupled with hunger.

Some may be astonished, perhaps, that the cardinal, having
the credit he had with the King, since all these things would
have advanced the siege, did not propose and accomplish them.
To this there is nothing to answer, unless that it is wrong in
a council to take by authority that which one ought to yield by
reason, and to guarantee an event to the failure of which every-
one contributes the more willingly in that the council has been
taken against their judgment. Such were the errors com-
mitted after the King had come in person to the siege. But
before this two principal ones had been committed, more notable
than all the others. The Duke of Angouleme, whom the King
sent at the beginning of his illness to oppose the descent of the
English and favor the aid of Re, had no sooner arrived, in July,
before La Rochelle than they sent him many despatches to pre-
vent the people of La Rochelle from getting in all the wheat
which they had on their farms and in their country places.

But this order was not obeyed, which prolonged the siege
three months. The other error was to let Tadon be fortified,
and not to have taken the eminence to build a fort there, instead
of making it at Coreille, where it was perfectly useless. Pom-
pee-Targon was the principal cause of this fault, preferring the
post of Coreille to this spot, the importance of which the
enemy knew so well that they fortified it at once, realizing that
on it depended their salvation or ruin. But in the time when
God gave the victory to the King it brought a universal dis-
couragement to his enemies, and great hope to his allies, who
regarded the capture of this city as the deliverance of Italy and
the subjection of these rebels to the legitimate domination

ROCHELLE AND THE GREAT CABAL m

of the King as the freeing of all Europe from the unjust yoke
of the tyranny of the house of Austria. When they heard the
news at Casal they took a new hold on life. Although they
were short of food and of all commodities, and suffered all the
extremities of a town besieged for a long time by a powerful
enemy, and abandoned by its prince, too weak to defend it,
they not only took courage, but no longer felt their woes, find-
ing in this news all they needed. The ladies even, knowing
that there was no money to pay the soldiers, brought their
rings and most precious ornaments for this purpose, and were
ready to give their own tresses, were there need, as the women
of Carthage cut their hair to make bowstrings for their hus-
bands against the Romans. At Rome the Pope caused a Te
Deum to be sung. It was no longer feared that by this city,
as by the opening of another wooden horse of Troy, there
might enter into the kingdom hostile armies to bring fire and
destruction.

It was not doubted that the Huguenot party was ruined,
communication with foreign lands having been cut off, and
with it the power of obtaining supplies and support from with-
out. But the trouble was that all the air was full of cabals in
the court and in the State. They all hated the royal authority,
and consequently the cardinal, who strengthened it by his coun-
sels. They hated the cardinal first because ' e was the favorite
of his master, and it is an ordinary thing in the courts of kings
that where there is the love and confidence of the prince there
shall be also the hatred of the courtiers. In this they aYe like
demons who try to insinuate themselves by their malignity
into the soul in which they see God's grace. They hated him
from the envy they brought to his glory in having so wisely
foreseen, so courageously persevered, and so happily succeeded
in his counsels against their intention and their desire.

This thought deprived them of rest, not as with Themistocles,
whom the trophies of Miltiades kept from sleeping, by emula-
tion to imitate and equal his virtue, but Hke vile and low souls
who at the sight of another's virtue feel their bowels yearn to
destroy him. They hated him, again, because he did not ac-
commodate himself to their desires, and only regarded their
interest in the service of his master. But they hated him still
chiefly because, abhorring as they did the establishment and

112 RICHELIEU

strengthening, they could not bear to look on him who joyfully
contributed all his care and his life to that end. And the more
unrighteous were the causes of their hatred the more irrecon-
cilable it was. And it was not in the power of the cardinal
to remedy this. On the contrary, he was forced to increase it
every day because it was nourished on his fidelity. They had
been accustomed for a long time to live in confusion, and they
could not bear to see themselves obliged to lead another life.
They knew liberty only as a license to commit with impunity
all sorts of bad actions. It seemed to them that they were
oppressed in being restrained within the equitable limits of
justice and duty. One of them had the hardihood to say when
La Rochelle was taken: " We may say that we are all lost."

These are the principal reasons for which they opposed the
cardinal, whom they recognized as the principal organ that
God had given the King to bring about so great a good. They
wanted to get rid of him at any price. There was no trick
that they did not invent to place evil by calumny and lies in
the mind of the King, even to the extent of injuring public
affairs, so that he might get the blame. In this they left noth-
ing undone. They were not content with uniting with each
other. They called strangers into the party, and even abused
the goodness of Monsieur, and, deceiving him, won him over to
their side — so far did their malice carry them.

Monsieur continued his complaints and brought to memory
the various pretexts that the factionists had given him to
feign discontentment; that he was treated as a child, having
no part in affairs ; that they had at first constrained him from
marrying by the imprisonment of the colonel ; that they had
afterward refused him Chaudebonne ; then they had given her
her liberty without telling him ; that during the illness of the
King they had provided for the aid of Re without telling him
a word of it ; that they had treated with Spain on that occa-
sion without his knowing of it ; that the King had rebuked
Desouches ; and that the cardinal showed very plainly that he
did not love him. Le Coigneux was so daring as to say to
Sieur Bouthillier that either the cardinal would have to quit the
affair or that he must treat Monsieur better, or that Monsieur
would declare against him and procure his ruin, and said him-
self to the cardinal that Monsieur was jealous of the King.

ROCHELLE AND THE GREAT CABAL

113

They scattered these complaints in the court, and spake to the
Count de la Rochefoucauld about them. Notwithstanding the
promises that Monsieur had made to the King and to the Queen-
mother not to think further of the marriage of Princess Marie,
he intrigued more than ever. Madame de Longueville advised
him to give a promise to the girl without the knowledge of the
Queen. He saw the girl secretly, and sent to her frequently.
He visited Madame de Longueville every day. The Queen
complained of this. Then Monsieur complained of this, and
Monsieur denied ever having promised the King and the Queen
to give up the idea. Le Coigneux desired to make a journey
to the court, and asked the Queen to advise Monsieur to send
him there. He came, and the King treated him very well. He
was contented, and returned satisfied, securing the delay of the
departure of Mademoiselle de Nevers, on condition that Mon-
sieur promised anew to the Queen not to think more of mar-
riage without the consent of their Majesties. Instead of rec-
ognizing this favor, M. de Bellegarde said to the Queen from
Monsieur, that the latter saw well that she did not love him,
opposing what he most desired, and that without her he had
obtained from the King, by Le Coigneux, the delay of the
journey of this girl, for which he was under no obligation to
the Queen.

This evil speech was contradicted by Le Coigneux at his
arrival before M. de Bellegarde, recognizing that Monsieur had
only obtained this favor of the King by the interposition of the
latter, and that the King had a great aversion to this marriage,
as he had showed. They told the Queen-mother that Monsieur
thought that the King had no aversion to this marriage, be-
cause Camprerny, being at Paris, had said that the King did
not worry about it, and that this had been confirmed by M.
de Saint Simon, who remained with Madame de Longueville.
Never were there seen so many artifices. It was thought that
Le Coigneux, before starting, had advised Monsieur to make
a number of blusterings in his absence, to show that he was
not the cause. Often before and after the journey of this
Coigneux, M. de Bellegarde informed the Queen that Monsieur
was on the point of retiring to his home. M. de Bellegarde
had said that when he desired he would win over the prince
by giving his daughter in marriage for his son.
8

114

RICHELIEU

Gondy said to the Queen that he knew from very accurate
sources that Mirabel, for the last five or six months, not only
saw the countess, but, what is more, that he encouraged La
Longueville to marriage, promising her that his master would
arrange the affair of his brother. Gondy said also that he
knew that the same person said that by this means he would
either prevent Monsieur from marrying at all, by the aversion
of the Queen-mother, or would make him marry La Nevers,
who would always be out with the Queen, and who perhaps
would never have issue. Among the many factionists was
Toiras himself, to whom the King had shown so many favors.
He complained that he did not receive good treatment and
that no account was made of him, just as if being intrusted with
the citadel of Re was a small thing.

Later the King told the cardinal that Toiras had said that
the cardinal had tried to corrupt him with money, to discover
everything he was doing. Tricks were played on all sides.
They threw on the bed of the King at Surgeres a paper badly
drawn, in effect, but of which the design and the substance
were diabolical, and Preaux warned the cardinal that it was
common report that the cabal of Toiras had thrown this paper.
When by the confession of all France the cardinal was doing
his best, he was accused of being the disturber of the public
peace and to him were imputed the diversions of the King.
The cardinal, instead of complaining, kept silence, remember-
ing that the political sage, the Roman legislator, estimated this
quality the first for government, and made a law among the
Romans to worship among the deities particularly the one of
Silence. And not only did the cardinal remain silent, but he
became proud of their hatred, being glad that the enemies of
the King persecuted him, as the true praises of a minister of
state are the complaints that the wicked make of him. Never-
theless, so many factions and cabals made him very anxious as
to the advice that he had to give to the King.

When all work together for the benefit of the master it is
easy to make things succeed, but when some tear down what
others build it is difficult to receive honor from what one under-
takes. Furthermore, who can guarantee all events ? Although
one embarks in good weather, with favoring wind and tide,
often tempests arise and betray our hopes. How much more

ROCHELLE AND THE GREAT CABAL

115

ought one to fear, when the sea is rough and the sailors are not in
accord for the service of the ship ? The cardinal saw that they
wished to make him responsible for everything, and that their
only hope was to destroy him. But having searched his spirit
and communed with God, the cardinal took the resolve to defy
all and abandon himself to every peril for the service of the
King. He advised the King to think of Italian affairs.

The King resolved to advance in person into Dauphine, where
he had a powerful army. Before taking his resolutions there
were many councils held, and nothing bearing upon the subject
was forgotten. The cardinal said to the King that it was an
affair in which he ought to make up his mind for himself, be-
cause the consequence would be very great. Among other
things the cardinal said the following: It might happen that
Spain, feeling herself touched to the quick by the opposition to
her designs, would seek revenge and cause to descend on our
frontiers troops from Germany. There was not much appear-
ance of her being in a state to do us much injury, but it was
good to look at the worst which could happen, in order not to
be deceived by the event. He added that the English peace
was not concluded, and that therefore it was necessary to be
careful lest in undertaking this affair they should make Spain
forget her anger against England and form a coalition with
her against us, to divert his Majesty from so good a design.
Holland must also be considered.

All these considerations had no little weight, but there were
others not less strong. Glory itself was vo small motive to
take the King to the aid of the Duke of Mantua, to deliver a
prince unjustly reduced to extremities by the power which
pretended to be the greatest in Europe, and to undertake the
passage of the mountains in a season which would not permit
of fighting even in the most beautiful country in the world.
To embark on this enterprise notwithstanding the other affair
that the King had in his kingdom would be an action which
would surpass all the great expeditions of the Romans, and
which could not have enough reward in the reputation of men.
It must also be considered that if Spain should despoil the
Duke of Mantua she would be absolute mistress of Italy. It
was also to be feared that after this conquest the Spaniards
would join Germany and Italy, making themselves masters, if

ii6 RICHELIEU

not of the whole Helvetian Republic, at least of the Grisons,
where their power would have a double force. If Spain should
accomplish all these designs she could only advance by taking
some of our feathers such as Navarre, Namur, Artois, Flan-
ders, and other countries belonging to this State, without speak-
ing of Italy.

The cardinal, having represented all these things to the
King, begged him to make the decision himself, and assured
him of his best services whatever might be the choice. His
Majesty was a little vexed with him for this procedure, and
after telling him that his mind was fully made up to go to
the aid of the Duke of Mantua he commanded him to give
freely his own opinion. The cardinal asked him to remem-
ber that he had first taken this resolve, so that in the future he
would not impute to him this counsel, if he found difficulties in
the execution. Then the cardinal submitted willingly to the
command that he should give his own opinion in the afifair, and
gave it, not only on the present matter, but on the whole con-
ditions of Europe, asking for a special hour before his journey
to confer with him in private, with no other present but the
Queen his mother and Father Sufifren.

Nevertheless, to obey his orders without delay, he avowed
that he thought his Majesty had taken a good resolution, that
the greatest affairs had often only an instant of opportunity,
which never returned when once passed ; that Spain had never
been in greater necessity ; that great wars on all sides and the
loss of her fleet had reduced Spain to this condition ; that the
Spanish were very feeble before Casal. He added that as for
England, their necessity was so great that they thought of
nothing but re-establishing themselves ; that the death of
Buckingham had changed affairs ; that the house of Austria
would never give up what had fallen into their hands. He
did not forget to represent that England acted often contrary
to all rules of reason and prudence, but that with a new gov-
ernment he could not believe that the English would despise
the dictates of prudence, especially as he did not see what
profit would come to them out of the affair.

Finally, he put forth a reason which seemed invincible to
him, namely, that the King had time to assist Casal before his
enemies could be ready to attack him. The King determined

ROCHELLE AND THE GREAT CABAL 117

to start two days later, and he ordered the cardinal to come to
him in the evening. There, in the presence of the Queen-
mother and Father Suffren, the cardinal read him some memo-
randa which he had written on this subject. They were as
follows : Now that La Rochelle was taken, if his Majesty
wished to become the most powerful monarch in the world, and
the most esteemed prince, he ought to consider before God
that which was to be descried in his own person and that
which was to be reformed in his State.

State interests were divided into two heads, one of which
concerned the interior and one the exterior relations. As to
the former, he must destroy the rebellion of heresy, take Cas-
tres, Nimes, Montauban, and all the other places in Languedoc,
Rouergue, and Guienne, then enter Sedan and secure money.
He must fortify the frontiers. He must make his authority
supreme among great and small, fill the bishoprics with chosen
wise and capable persons, and innocently increase his revenues.
As for the exterior policy, he must have a perpetual design of
arresting the course of the progress of Spain. The first thing
to do was to make himself powerful on the sea, which gives
entrance to all the countries of the world. He must fortify
himself at Metz and advance as far as Strasbourg, if possible,
to gain entrance into Germany. He must build a great citadel
at Versoix to make himself considerable to the Swiss, have
an open door there, and put Geneva in the state of being one
of the dependencies of France. He must also think of acquir-
ing the sovereignty of Neuchatel and the marquisate of Saluces.
He must support thirty galleys in commission, changing the offi-
cers every three years.

As to the person of the King, he had so many good qualities,
said the cardinal, that it was difficult to find anything to criti-
cise, but inasmuch as the faults of kings consist chiefly in omis-
sions, it would not be strange if there were something of this
kind to remark, not by lack of qualities necessary in a prince,
but by the lack of putting them in practice. A prince should
give permission to his familiars to inform him of his faults.
In the time of Tiberius they kept the finger on the lips. But
Augustus permitted the courtiers to tell him his faults, and
thanked them for it and rewarded them.

His Majesty was very good, virtuous, secret, courageous, and

ii8 RICHELIEU

fond of glory. But it might be said with truth that he was
extremely quick, suspicious, jealous, sometimes susceptible to
various fleeting aversions and to first impressions — in fine, sub-
ject to a certain variety of humors and diverse inclinations
more easy for the King to correct than for him to report, as
he was so accustomed to publish his virtues to everybody that
he could scarcely remark his faults even to the King himself.
His judgment was good. As to the suspicions to which he
was inclined, it is true that they were sometimes such that he
took offence if two persons talked together. This was not
compatible with the management of affairs, which often re-
quires one to talk to everybody to penetrate and discover what
one esteems necessary for the service of his master, and by
a good reception stop the course of many discontentments that
the court produces every day, and to which men lean ordi-
narily when they are not well treated. Many inconveniences
might come also from the jealousy of his Majesty, who ought
to be assured that if he did not take a resolution to drop it, in
reference to Monsieur, his brother, and give him his way in
minor matters, the lack of understanding between them might
result in disorder in the kingdom.

After the King had heard all the memoranda of which the
above are examples he told the cardinal that he would profit
by the suggestions, but that he could not hear of the cardinal's
retiring.

Let us look at France at the end of the year 1630. The King,
with a generosity not of that time but of ancient ages, under-
took with justice the defence of a prince born his subject,
against the finesse of Spain and the forces of the empire. God
gave him so great a success that in all the conflicts his army was
victorious. He caused the siege of Casal to be raised, gave to
Mantua victory and honor. Not only Italy, but all Christianity
raved over so magnanimous an action, and called the King the
restorer of the common liberty and the powerful protection
of weak princes against the violence of stronger ones. The
cardinal was the one whom God used to give counsel to his
Majesty which his enemies did not dare openly to oppose. But
they made opposition secretly by treacherous cabals. It was
necessary to use a marvellous dexterity to disentangle all these
intrigues.

ROCHELLE AND THE GREAT CABAL 119

The cardinal was the only one to co-operate in this with the
King. He exposed his life, and by continual watchfulness,
despising his own good and all the things of this world, hoping
only to bring his master safely out of this enterprise, as finally
God gave him the grace to do. After all this the Queen-
mother, to whom, in common with the King, his services were
rendered, withdrew her favor, and instead of the recognition
which was due to him showed only an ingratitude. We have
before mentioned that, for many reasons, of which the chief
was to cure the suspicions that the envy and malice of men had
put into the mind of the Queen, he had been obliged to go,
shortly after the King, from St. Jean-de-Marienne, to seek
their Majesties at Lyons, where he arrived on August 22, 1630.

On his arrival he found that the time employed by him in
fidelity, courage, and virtue for the greater glory of his master
had been employed by his enemies in envy, jealousy, and ma-
lignity to destroy him in the mind of the Queen and to take
from him all the hope of his labor. He found the Queen
changed, and was ignorant of the cause, because he was a wit-
ness to himself of his sincerity, knew how things had come to
pass, and could not know how his enemies had twisted the truth
to turn the Queen against him. He suspected some in this, and
discovered others. He tried to cure all by good and solid rea-
sons. But he could not win her over to his side, so far had
they alienated her from him. Nevertheless, she appeared to be
satisfied either because of shame at not being able to contradict
his convincing arguments or that by this disguise she hoped
the better to gain her ends. She departed from Lyons. He
accompanied her on his journey to Paris, rendering her every
honor and attention.

But on her arrival at Paris her dissimulation could no longer
continue ; the abscess burst, and scarcely had she a chance to
see the King than she told him, on the tenth of November
(afterward called the Day of Dupes), that she would never like
the cardinal. She declared that she never wanted to see him
again in her house, nor any of his friends or relatives. She went
beyond this, and said that she would not take part in any of his
councils if the cardinal were present, and no prayer of the
King- could turn her from this determination. Cardinal de
Bagny was employed, but to no purpose. Father Suffren, her

I20 RICHELIEU

confessor, had no better success than the others. She thought
that the King would abandon him, and that her authority as
mother and the piety and honor that the King owed her as her
son would prevail over the public care which as King he owed
to his State and his people. The treacherous spirits who had
deceived her persuaded her of this.

But God, who held in his hand the heart of this prince, dis-
posed otherwise. His Majesty, seeing that at any price she
wished to deprive him of a servant whom he had proved so
useful, made up his mind to defend the cardinal against the
malice of those who led her to this conclusion. He took leave
of her, went to Versailles, commanded the cardinal to follow
him, and summoned also the guardian of the seals, De Marillac.
The custodian of the seals, who, on the report of the outburst
of the Queen, and the belief he had that the cardinal had been
dismissed and had gone to Pontoise, thought the case against
the cardinal had been won, went in the morning to Glatigny,
near Versailles. In the evening, on going to bed, he received the
disagreeable news that the cardinal was with the King, who not
only had given him a good reputation, but had lodged him in a
room above his own. In the morning the guardian of the
seals received worse news — worse, because so entirely unex-
pected— which was that his Majesty had ordered him to give
up his seals and consider himself under arrest. And because
the cabal which troubled the State was plotted by him and the
marshal his brother, and that it was nothing to arrest one if the
other should remain at liberty, especially having in hand the
forces of the King in Italy, his Majesty sent to Marechal de
Schomberg an express order to seize his person. He did this
with much dexterity and not less surprise on the part of the
said Marillac, who, the evening previous, had received a de-
spatch from his brother that gave him news of the disgrace of
the cardinal.

His Majesty, without waiting any longer, gave that very day
the custody of the seals to Sieur de Chateauneuf, and made Le
Jay first president of the Parliament of Paris, which had been
vacant for a long time by the death of Sieur de Champigny.
Monsieur (the brother of the King), at the first news of what
had happened between the King and the Queen-mother, at
the Hotel du Luxembourg, on the subject of the cardinal,

ROCHELLE AND THE GREAT CABAL 121

went to find the Queen-mother and assure her of his services.
But when he saw the rapid changes that this outburst had pro-
duced and that the King had espoused the cause of the cardi-
nal, he changed his plans and went to find the King, disap-
proved of the actions of the Queen his mother, and vowed never
to depart from the interests and the wishes of his Majesty,
which should always be the rules of his own. He also prom-
ised the cardinal to love him and defend him against all those
who, to the prejudice of the royal authority, should desire to
offend him.

This brought no little satisfaction to the King. The Queen,
while astonished, both in the change in the officers at the will
of Monsieur, who remained in the service of the King instead
of changing to her party, and while she saw that the King
undertook absolutely the protection of the cardinal, would
nevertheless not be conquered in her opposition to the cardinal
whatever the King might say. We finished the discussion
of the preceding year by the deplorable division which fac-
tious spirits had made in the royal house. We shall see in
the sequel how difficult it is to cure evils caused to States by
the inconsiderate vanity and violent passions of men. The
King had caused the arrest of the Marshal de Marillac and his
brother, who had been the principal firebrands to influence
the mind of the Queen-mother against the cardinal and the
most dangerous spirits in the conduct of the plot against him.
But they were not the only ones. There were many others
about the Queen who were dangerous. The princesses de
Conti and the duchesses of Ornano and d'Elbeuf were the chief
ones, all three of the house of Lorraine, shown by experience
unfriendly to royal authority.

The first two princesses had a hatred against the cardinal
on account of the interest of M. de Guise, who was his declared
enemy, and the third on account of M. de Vendome. These
three princesses drew after them many grandees and gallants
of the court, some from love and others from the idea that they
would profit by the overthrow of the cardinal. Mirabel, am-
bassador of Spain, as skilful as evil-disposed, was secretly of
their party, preferring the wishes of the Queen-mother to those
of the King. These three princesses worked continually on the
mind of the Queen-mother and never let her out of their sight.

122 RICHELIEU

Father Suffren, her confessor, and who in that capacity was the
most proper organ to bring her to a reconciliation, was first
employed to that end. But the malice of those surrounding the
Queen overcame his efforts.

Then recourse was had to Cardinal Bagny to see if the au-
thority of his interposition would succeed where the simple
piety of the first had failed. The Queen-mother promised the
King in the presence of the aforesaid cardinal and of Father
Suffren, that she would be present in the future at the councils,
and would consent to see the cardinal there (Richelieu) as for-
merly. But her promise was of no effect, her spirit being so
bitter that she could not conquer it. Marechal de Schomberg,
who had returned from Italy the year before, and had acquired
the reputation of being a sincere and disinterested man, labored
often with her, showing her the folly of her position. The
King himself added the weight of his repeated requests.

But it was in vain. As soon as the Queen showed that the
cardinal was not in her favor, Monsieur, who had an under-
standing with her, gave open evidence that he did not care to
see him, out of consideration for the Queen his mother. The
King spoke to Monsieur of the cardinal, declaring that he
would protect him. Monsieur promised the cardinal in the
presence of the King, very coldly, that he would have nothing
to fear from him. The Queen-mother saw with much dis-
pleasure that she was deserted by Monsieur in her evil cause.
The ambition of the people in the following of Monsieur gave
her a way to regain him to her side to the great prejudice of
the State. They had for a time kept Monsieur in the path of
duty, won by the extraordinary favors of the King. But Puy-
laurens began soon to make new demands, and Le Coigneux,
who was already in possession of the office of president, was
not contented with the promise of a cardinal's hat, but wanted
the King to press his Holiness to hasten the promotion, which
his Majesty could not do. The discontented spirits again won
over to the cause of the Queen the mind of Monsieur, represent-
ing to him that there was no safety for him at court and com-
plaining of the bad treatment he was getting. The cardinal
asked them what it was, and what Monsieur could reasonably
desire beyond the advantage the King had awarded him.

To this they made no definite answer, only that Monsieur

ROCHELLE AND THE GREAT CABAL 123

was badly treated, and that they knew well enough how he
ought to be treated to give him satisfaction. Finally, the car-
dinal was constrained to tell them that he had three masters,
the King, the Queen-mother, and Monsieur; that he wished
to serve them all, but each in his or her proper order ; that to
give to the last what was due to the first was not reasonable,
and that he would never do it. Finally, their temerity went so
far that they caused Alonsieur to take the resolution of retiring
from court, so that the Queen, remaining, might receive and
give him advice, and foment the cabals that were formed,
while those without should scatter divisions in the provinces
and cause uprisings there. With this object Monsieur asked
from the Queen the jewels of his late wife, which he had placed
in her hands, and which were of great value, and went (Janu-
ary 30, 1631 ) to seek the cardinal in his palace in Paris, strongly
accompanied. He told the cardinal that he would deem very
strange the object that brought him there ; that while he
thought he would serve him he had been willing to be friendly ;
but that now he saw the cardinal failing in all his promises,
he had come to withdraw his pledges of friendship.

The cardinal asked him, with great respect, in what he had
been remiss. He said that the cardinal had done nothing for
M. de Lorraine, and that the way in which he had acted served
only to show the world that he had abandoned the Queen-
mother. The cardinal replied that he would himself see to
the rights of M. de Lorraine when his deputies should come,
but that they had not yet arrived, and so he had nothing to
complain of. Monsieur said that there was no need of further
explanations.

On this, the cardinal replied no further, only to say that
he would always be his faithful servant. Monsieur then told
him that he was going home, and that if he were pressed he
would defend himself very well. They had given him more
violent counsel, but it was so contrary to the greatness and
generosity of his birth and the goodness of his nature that
he would not follow it. Monsieur then entered his coach and
started for Orleans. The cardinal sent word to the King, who
was at Versailles, and set out at the same time to go and see
him, and assured him of his protection, knowing well that there
was no one who wished him evil except for the faithful ser-

124

RICHELIEU

vices he had rendered him. Monsieur sent Chaudebonne, on
leaving, with a confidential letter to the King, to make his
excuses and protest his allegiance.

The King and his brother, Monsieur, were not to be fully
reconciled until 1634. In the preceding year he and the Queen-
mother had given the appearance of desiring to get back into
the favor of the King, who received their propositions with
sincerity. The King said that they could wish for nothing
more desired both by his Majesty and his State, but the malice
with which evil counsellors advised Monsieur had kept them
apart. Monsieur had too long been under the influence of the
Spanish, enemies of the country. The artifices of the ministers
of the Queen-mother had made too easy an impression. The
King began to be weary of the duration of the evil, and
resolved to put an end to it, and to win Monsieur, his brother,
by the two greatest powers that God has established on this
earth, by love and force, hope and fear, a sovereign clemency
and the secret threat of a just severity.

After much negotiation. Monsieur, being in Flanders, rec-
ognising that all he undertook against the service of his Maj-
esty was turned aside by the wisdom of the King's counsels,
that his spies were discovered and punished according to their
deserts, and that the Spaniards were not in a position to keep
their promises, finally came to himself and recognized his fault
in remaining out of the good graces of the King. Puylaurens
ceased to oppose the ideas of reconciliation. Delbene was se-
lected as an envoy to the King, and the measure succeeded
more happily than others. He went to the King in September
(1634), and told him that the friends of Monsieur no longer
thought him safe in Flanders, where the Spaniards were press-
ing him to act, and that Monsieur was grieved that he had
fallen into disgrace, and desired to make a complete submission
to the King's wishes, and to renounce all plottings against his
services, and hoped that his Majesty would forget all that had
happened since he left the court and the country. Delbene
asked on the part of Monsieur that the King should approve
his marriage, but if it should be annulled, that his Majesty
should not compel him to remarry against his will. The King
should permit him to live in Auvergne, Bourbonnais, or
Dombes, Monsieur promising on his part to conduct himself

ROCHELLE AND THE GREAT CABAL 125

like a true brother and good subject without conspiring either
within or without the kingdom.

In consideration of the above his Majesty forgave him all
his faults, and granted a general amnesty to all those who had
followed and served him since he left the kingdom, of what-
ever rank, to be delivered to Monsieur a week after his return
to France, it being understood that those who were in Flanders
should return to the kingdom three weeks after Monsieur's
return, and the others who were farther off six weeks after.
Exception was made in the cases of La Vieuville, Le Coigneux,
Mousigot, Vieuxpont, and the bishops who had been tried by
ecclesiastical commissioners, or who were still on trial.

His Majesty re-established Monsieur in all his possessions,
appanages, and pensions, granted him 400,000 livres to pay
his debts, at Brussels and elsewhere, to be given him when he
should return to France, and 100,000 ecus within fifteen days
afterward for his equipment. His Majesty gave him the gov-
ernment of Auvergne instead of Orleans and Blaisois, and
made other concessions. All this was granted by the King on
condition that Monsieur would accept the terms within three
weeks from the date of the agreement, which the King, being
at Ecouen, gave the second of October (1634) to Delbene. So
that if the terms were not accepted his Majesty could provide
for the safety of his affairs and of his kingdom as he should
find it necessary.

On the eleventh of October Monsieur started for Sois-
sons, having sent the Sieur Saint Quentin to Brussels to
make apologies for his sudden departure. He wrote especially
to the Queen-mother to beg her to take good care of the Prin-
cess Marguerite, whom he called his wife. He intrusted the
princess to her, judging that she could not be in better hands
than hers during his absence. The King having been informed
of Monsieur's entrance into the kingdom, sent to him the Sieur
Bouthillier, secretary of state, with 50,000 ecus, to assure him
that he was welcome in the kingdom, where he would receive
every kindness. Bouthillier was received by his Highness with
great favor. Although he told Monsieur that his Majesty
desired to see him, the prince resolved nevertheless to remain
at some distance from the King until Bouthillier, having seen
the cardinal, should tell him that his Majesty would find it

126 RICHELIEU

agreeable, and that then he would come with a small following
to show that he had entire confidence and hoped to inspire the
same feeling, and that, after meeting the King, he would go to
Blois, where he wished for neither gendarmes nor light cavalry,
nor even guards.

His Majesty, recognizing by this that Monsieur had not only
the proper sentiments, but was actually in submission to his
will, and wanted to see the King to thank him, granted Mon-
sieur an interview. So Monsieur having come to Ecouen to
await his commands, and staying there a day, set out, Saturday,
the eleventh of the month, to go to St. Germain. Here the
King received him with the greater joy in that he saw him
out of the power of the Spaniards, who wanted to use him to
the injury of France.

After the first compliments, which were given Monsieur by
the whole court, and especially by the cardinal and the minis-
ters of State, who had come to St. Germain, Monsieur said to
the King, that outside of the fact that reason brought him
back to France, necessity had constrained him to the decision,
because he was in evident danger of being made prisoner. He
added, after this speech, that the Queen his mother, or at least
Chanteloube, on his part, and all by concert with the Prince
Thomas, Duke d'Elbeuf and President Costa, had sent three
couriers to the Marquis Aytonne at Maestricht to advise his
arrest. He said further that some time after Sieur Carando-
let, dean of Cambray, was arrested, Chanteloube gave a paper
to the Marquis d'Aytonne, which bore, in express terms, proof
that he was in intelligence with the said dean to put Cam-
bray into the hands of the King, which Chanteloube did with
the intention of ruining him.

Monsieur went to Ruel on the twenty-second, where the car-
dinal entertained him. From the first time that he saw the
King and the cardinal, and afterward on other trips that he
made from Blois to the court at the end of the year, he opened
his heart and told the King and cardinal many important cir-
cumstances that could only be known from his mouth. He
spoke of the designs that the counsellors of the Queen and
his own advisers had against France, and mentioned many
things that had happened both between the Queen and himself
and between them and the Spaniards. Among other things

ROCHELLE AND THE GREAT CABAL 127

he lamented especially that Father Chanteloube had taken a
memorandum from her to Marquis d'Aytonne, by which it
was represented, that Monsieur wanted to escape into France,
and stated in express terms that the said marquis should pre-
vent by peace or by force the reconcilement of Monsieur with
the King, from which he concluded that she advised his arrest.
Monsieur also said that the Marquis d'Aytonne found this so
strange that he wanted a copy of it to show to the rest of the
Spanish Council. These things, and others similar, showed him
the danger that he, Monsieur, ran of his liberty and his life in
Flanders, and the belief they had always had that the malice
of Chanteloube, who stopped at no limits, would go to extremes,
and that he could not trust him. For the carelessness he had
of his own reputation, saying that it was indifferent to him
whether they deemed him an assassin or not, was a certain
proof that there was not a spark of virtue in his heart.

The cardinal was not only attacked in his life by Chante-
loube, but Le Coigneux and Mousigot were mixed up in it
too, and Puylaurens confessed ingenuously that when Monsieur
left Paris in 163 1 for Orleans, Mousigot and Le Coigneux
did all they could to lead Monsieur to kill the cardinal in his
home. Monsieur did not always volunteer these disclosures
himself, but the cardinal asked him if it were not true that
such and such things were said or done, and Monsieur in-
genuously confessed them. Monsieur, speaking of the Queen-
mother, said to the cardinal that her ill-will toward him went
so far that she wanted everyone to believe all the calumnies
that were vomited against his honor, although they were desti-
tute of truth and she really did not believe them herself ; that
the first quarrel he had with the Queen-mother in Flanders
was because Saint Germain, intimating in all his writings that
the cardinal wanted to make himself King, Monsieur had said
to the Queen : " That is good enough for those who are fools
enough to believe it, but there was not an honest man who did
not know the contrary." That M. de Bellegarde had two
promises in writing which were made before the cardinal went
to Pignerol. One of those, made by the Queen over her own
signature, was that she would do her best to ruin the cardinal
with the King. The other, by Monsieur, agreed that he would
never marry the Princess Marie.

128 RICHELIEU

Puylaurens added that M. de Bellegarde had a box of gold
made in which he placed these promises, and which he wore
on his neck hung on a golden chain. And still recently, in
Flanders, the first article that she desired to be put into the
treaty which she wanted him to sign with her and the Spaniards
before starting for France was that he would never agree to
prevent the absolute ruin of the cardinal, so much had Chante-
loube poisoned her against him. Monsieur expatiating upon
the subject of Chanteloube, the cardinal said that he had always
had great influence with the Queen, not by his capacity, but by
his cunning and her natural jealousy and suspicion. That, at
Angers, he had put the Queen in such a state of jealousy and
suspicion about passing events that she turned red whenever
she saw him, and Father Sufifren could be a witness to this
fact.

Continuing to speak of past occasions, the cardinal said that
these two principles had destroyed her, and that Vaultier, Le
Fargis, and many others had encouraged her in her humor,
and used her to their ends by a thousand misrepresentations.
Monsieur asked the cardinal of whom she had the most sus-
picion and jealousy. The cardinal answered that at various
times she was jealous of different persons, that on the journey
to Suse she was jealous of Monsieur and the countess, that at
Lyons she was jealous of Monsieur on account of Peccais given
to his brother. That she was jealous of the confidence the
King reposed in him, the cardinal, and finally of everybody.

The cardinal said that after all the Queen-mother was one
of the most virtuous of princesses in the world, and had many
excellent qualities. But her suspicions and jealousy and re-
membrance of fancied injuries caused the objects of her dis-
favor to be on their guard.

Let us return to the festival which the cardinal gave to INIon-
sieur, at Ruel, on the twenty-second of the month. That even-
ing Monsieur returned to St. Germain, from which place he
departed on the twenty-third, to go to Limours. and from
there to Orleans. The Sieur Bouthillier secretary of state,
had told him when he was at Soissons, that his Majesty had
desired to have a consultation of doctors and prelates in the
presence of his Highness and his friends, on the subject of his
nullification of marriage. Monsieur said that he would be very

ROCHELLE AND THE GREAT CABAL 129

glad to listen to them. And Puylaurens promised absolutely
that with the aid of these learned personages he would give
the last stroke to this affair and would put the mind of Mon-
sieur in such a state that the King would be entirely enlight-
ened as to his intentions, and gave his word to Sieur Bou-
thillier that if the alleged marriage were declared void he would
answer on his life that Monsieur would submit to the decree
with good heart.

On these good hopes the King sent, toward the end of
October (1634), some doctors to Orleans to confer with Mon-
sieur on the subject. They laid down the nullity of the mar-
riage to him, but he gave no token of his sentiment on the
subject. Puylaurens, however, changed the language that
he (Puylaurens) had formerly used, said that as for him he was
satisfied, but that Monsieur said that he, the latter, was not
sufficiently clear on the subject, and that he could not force
the will of Monsieur. This man, Puylaurens, had often prom-
ised that Monsieur would yield to the King in this matter,
but by weakness or malice he had not kept his promises. He
gained everything that had been promised to him. The
cardinal received him into his alliance, and gave him in mar-
riage the second daughter of the Baron de Pontchateau, and
a few days later he was made duke and peer. Then, seeing
that he had attained all his wishes, he said to the cardinal that
he would be an ingrate, traitor, and very disloyal if he did not
seek all the inventions in the world to content the King on
all subjects, and especially on the subject of the marriage of
Monsieur. He said that although up to the present Monsieur
had refused to join the King in asking the Pope for judges
in partibus, he assured them that he would do it now, or
if the King should call an assembly of prelates who would
declare the law of France such as his Majesty and Parliament
had ruled he assured them that Monsieur would be content
with this procedure.

But all this was only wind. The King had been informed
that Monsieur since his return had continually received news
of Princess Marguerite and sent her news from himself. Even
during the conference of doctors at Orleans a valet of the
princess arrived, before whom Monsieur said openly that he
would never break the marriage.

I30

RICHELIEU

These things made the King discontented with Puylaurens.
He thought he never advised Monsieur to do his duty except
under pressure. At the beginning of 1635, ^^ter having for
a long time struggled against the war which the ambition
of Spain was forcing on France, we were forced to declare
war against the Spaniards. What had the Spaniards done
since the treaty of Vervins but to increase at the expense of
their feeble neighbors, and go from province to province,
subjecting one after the other? They sought to do the same
with all the States of Europe, and by this means to arrive at
a universal monarchy of Christendom, which was the only
limit of their schemes. What they called peace was nothing but
an empty name devoid of all reality.

In truth, they had a perpetual war against the whole world.
Thus greatness so unjust, with no respect for treaties, oaths,
and alliances, increasing continually by the ruin of our neigh-
bors, did it not impose upon us the necessity of making a war
of defence? Was it prudent and just to wait until all the
others had been devoured to be ourselves the last? Were we
not assured that they wished to come to us by the orders they
had sent to Flanders to attack us openly when they thought
a suitable time had arrived, by the treaty they had made
with Monsieur, by which he was to assist them in putting all
this kingdom to fire and blood and to dispute the crown with
the King, by their naval army, which was to descend on
Provence, by their designs on Languedoc, and by many other
enterprises against various other places of this State?

Were not all these things proofs clearer than day that there
was no longer question as to whether we should have war,
since they left us no choice but simply to know whether
the theatre of war should be their State or ours; whether it
should be begun at their convenience or ours ; and whether
we should wait until they burst upon us with all their power
and that of our allies, now become our enemies, or whether,
getting ahead, of them we should unite to us the rest of our
alHes to weaken them and fortify ourselves?

The King for all these reasons was obliged this year (1635)
to declare war. As the Spaniards had been astonished that,
when they expected it the least, Monsieur had escaped from
their hands and had returned to his duty in France by a sudden

ROCHELLE AND THE GREAT CABAL 131

and unforeseen change, and given up plotting with them, so
they thought that with the same facihty they could recall
him to their side again, and that he would not have the firm-
ness to remain faithK-1 to the King, his brother. Monsieur's
intents, his birth, his good-nature, gave them little hope of
winning him to their side by openly addressing his person.
So they had recourse to the means which had been the cause
of all his previous faults. They renewed or continued their
understandings and secret correspondence with Puylaurens
by the agency of enemies of this Crown and bad Frenchmen
whom they had among them.

The King was informed of the plottings of Puylaurens.
He could hardly believe the news, because he had loaded him
with benefits since his return, had raised him to a duke and
peer, which was much above his birth and far from his deserts.
The cardinal also had received him in alliance and married
him to the daughter of Baron de Pontchateau, his cousin-
german, because he had taken a solemn oath to abandon, and
never to renew any intrigues against the State and to give
to the King warning of any attempts that might be made
against his service. But finally his Majesty the King being
assured by undeniable and indubitable proofs, the cardinal,
shutting his eyes to his own private interests and regarding
only those of the State, advised the King to seize the person
of Puylaurens, and if he were found guilty, to give him the
exemplary punishment so signal a treachery should merit.

His Majesty the King acted on this advice and gave orders
to Sieur de Gordes, captain of the guards, to arrest Puy-
laurens. This was done at the Louvre, February 14, 1635.
With him were also arrested Sieur du Fargis, the most bold
and the least considered of all his confidants. They were
taken next day to Vincennes. Some others of the cabal were
also arrested: Le Coudray-Montpensier, Charnj-j, Besart, and
the two Senantes. Monsieur, according to appearances, was
very much surprised at this news. But his Majesty embraced
him tenderly, assuring him of the satisfaction he had with
him, and showing him the ingratitude of such a bad servant,
from whom he need not have expected better treatment than
his Majesty had received. Monsieur, the King's brother,
showed great feeling for Puylaurens, but much more for jus-

132

RICHELIEU

tice and his duty to the King, to whom he protested that he
would abandon Puylaurens if he were shown to be so unvv'orthy
of the favor of the King.

But nevertheless when the King desired to begin the trial
of Puylaurens, the friendship of Monsieur, which his crime had
seemed to extinguish, was rekindled by pity for him in his
misery. And the prayers in his favor which he made to the
King had sufficient power to postpone the trial from day to
day, so that finally, after four months in prison, good fortune
took Puylaurens out of the VN^orld July i, 1635, and saved him
from the infamy of the shameful death he could not have
avoided.

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN

€artiinal tic iHet^

JEAN FRANCOIS PAUL DE GONDI, CARDINAL DE RETZ

1614 — 1679

Jean Frangois Paul de Gondi, Cardinal de Retz, was bom at Mont-
mirail, in France, of an ancient and noble family. By his father he was
compelled to enter the Church, with the intention that he should become
Archbishop of Paris, a position which had already been held by two mem-
bers of his house. In his studies he displayed great brilliancy and pene-
tration, but his private life was dissolute. He became connected with
the Comte de Soissons, and engaged to some extent in political intrigue ;
but, after the death of that nobleman, resumed his theological studies
and was made coadjutor of the Archbishop of Paris, his uncle, by Louis
XIII on his death-bed. He devoted himself to his duties with zeal, and
gained great popularity by his profuse distribution of alms. On the break-
ing out of the faction of the Fronde he at first was of great assistance to
the royal cause, but was distrusted by the court, and became at last the
leader of the popular party, though he did not openly declare himself as
such. Though ambitious, it was admitted that he acted in these troubles
with dignity and moderation. In 1650 he was gained over by Mazarin
and rewarded with a cardinal's hat. After the close of the war and the
return of the court to Paris, in 1652, a mission to Rome was offered to
Gondi if he would leave his see ; he was still greatly distrusted by the
royalists ; and as he hesitated was arrested and imprisoned at Vincennes.
He resigned his archbishopric, which he had attained on his uncle's death,
and was allowed to retire to Nantes, whence he made his escape into
Spain and repaired to Rome. Here he revoked his resignation and suc-
ceeded in bartering the archbishopric for profitable benefices.

After some years of exile he became reconciled to Louis XIV and re-
turned to France, but abstained altogether from further political intrigue.
He sold his estates, paid his debts, which were enormous, and devoted
the rest of his life to works of charity and religion. His '* Memoirs " dis-
play the greatness, the impetuosity and the inequality of his achievements.
They picture their author as one who dexterously improved all the oppor-
tunities presented to him by fortune ; as a man of violent passions, yet
ready in subterfuge; quick to change his party as self-interest might
direct ; a student of character, yet a naive self-flatterer ; popular with the
masses, and necessary or formidable to his sovereign as circumstances
dictated.

134

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN

CARDINAL MAZARIN thought of nothing else now
but how to rid himself of the obligations he lay under
to the Prince de Conde, who had actually saved him
from the gallows. And his principal view was an alliance with
the house of Vendome, who had on some occasions opposed
the interest of the family of Conde.

In Paris the people libelled not only the cardinal, but the
Queen. Indeed it was not our interest to discourage libels and
ballads against the cardinal, but it concerned us to suppress
such as were levelled against the Queen and government. It
is not to be imagined what uneasiness the wrath of the people
gave us upon that head. Two criminals, one of whom was a
printer, being condemned to be hanged for publishing some
things fit to be burned and for libelling the Queen, cried out,
when they were upon the scaffold, that they were to be put to
death for publishing verses against Mazarin, upon which the
people rescued them from justice.

On the other hand, some gay young gentlemen of the court,
who were in Mazarin's interest, had a mind to make his name
familiar to the Parisians, and for that end made a famous dis-
play in the public walks of the Tuileries, where they had
grand suppers, with music, and drank the cardinal's health pub-
licly. We took little notice of this, till they boasted at Saint
Germain that the Frondeurs were glad to give them the wall.
And then we thought it high time to correct them, lest the
common peoph should think they did it by authority. For
this end M. de ^"'>eaufort and a hundred other gentlemen went
one night to the house where they supped, overturned the
table, and broke the musicians' violins over their heads.

Being informed that the Prince de Conde intended to oblige
the King to return to Paris, I was resolved to have all the

135

136

RETZ

merit of an action which would be so acceptable to the citizens.
I therefore resolved to go to the court at Compiegne, which
my friends very much opposed, for fear of the danger to which
I might be exposed, but I told them that what is absolutely
necessary is not dangerous.

I went accordingly, and as I was going upstairs to the
Queen's apartments, a man, whom I never saw before or since,
put a note into my hand with these words : " If you enter the
King's domicile, you are a dead man." But I was in already,
and it was too late to go back. Being past the guard-chamber,
I thought myself secure. I told the Queen that I was come to
assure her Majesty of my most humble obedience, and of the
disposition of the Church of Paris to perform all the services it
owed to their Majesties. The Queen seemed highly pleased,
and was very kind to me ; but when we mentioned the cardinal,
though she urged me to it, I excused myself from going to see
him, assuring her Majesty that such a visit would put it out of
my power to do her service. It was impossible for her to con-
tain herself any longer ; she blushed, and it was with much re-
straint that she forbore using harsh language, as she herself
confessed afterward.

Servien said one day that there was a design to assassinate
me at his table by the Abbe Fouquet ; and M. de Vendome,
who had just come from his table, pressed me to be gone, say-
ing that there were wicked designs hatching against me.

I returned to Paris, having accomplished everything I
wanted, for I had removed the suspicion of the court that the
Frondeurs were against the King's return. I threw upon the
cardinal all the odium attending his Majesty's delay. I braved
Mazarin, as it were, upon his throne, and secured to myself the
chief honor of the King's return.

The court was received at Paris as kings always were and
ever will be, namely, with acclamations, which only please such
as like to be flattered. A group of old women were posted at
the entrance of the suburbs to cry out, " God save his Emi-
nence 1 " who sat in the King's coach and thought himself Lord
of Paris ; but at the end of three or four days he found him-
self much mistaken. Ballads and libels still flew about. The
Frondeurs appeared bolder than ever. M. de Beaufort and I
rode sometimes alone, with one lackey only behind our coach,

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN 137

and at other times we went with a retinue of fifty men in livery
and a hundred gentlemen. We diversified the scene as we
thought it would be most acceptable to the spectators. The
court party, who blamed us from morning to night, nevertheless
imitated us in their way. Everybody took an advantage of the
ministry from our continual pelting of his eminence. The
prince, who always made too much or too little of the cardinal,
continued to treat him with contempt ; and, being disgusted at
being refused the post of superintendent of the seas, the car-
dinal endeavored to soothe him with the vain hopes of other
advantages.

The prince, being one day at court, and seeing the cardinal
give himself extraordinary airs, said, as he was going out of
the Queen's cabinet, " Adieu, Mars." This was told all over
the city in a quarter of an hour. I and Noirmoutier went by
appointment to his house at four o'clock in the morning, when
he seemed to be greatly troubled. He said that he could not
determine to begin a civil war, which, though the only means
to separate the Queen from the cardinal, to whom she was so
strongly attached, yet it was both against his conscience and
honor. He added that he should never forget his obligations
to us, and that if he should come to any terms with the court,
he would, if we thought proper, settle our affairs also, and that
if we had not a mind to be reconciled to the court, he would, in
case it did attack us, publicly undertake our protection. We
answered that we had no other design in our proposals than
the honor of being his humble servants, and that we should
be very sorry if he had retarded his reconciliation with the
Queen upon our account, praying that we might be permitted
to continue in the same disposition toward the cardinal as
we were then, which we declared should not hinder us from
paying all the respect and duty which we professed for his
Highness.

I must not forget to acquaint you that Madame de Gue-
menee, who ran away from Paris in a fright the moment it
was besieged, no sooner heard that I had paid a visit to
Mademoiselle de Chevreuse than she returned to town in a
rage. I was in such a passion with her for having cowardly
deserted me that I took her by the throat, and she was so
enraged at my familiarity with Mademoiselle de Chevreuse

138 RETZ

that she threw a candlestick at my head, but in a quarter of
an hour we were very good friends.

The Prince de Conde was no sooner reconciled with the
court than he was publicly reproached in the city for breaking
his word with the Frondeurs ; but I convinced him that he
could not think such treatment strange in a city so justly ex-
asperated against Mazarin, and that, nevertheless, he might
depend on my best services, for which he assured me of his
constant friendship.

Moissans, now Marechal d'Albret, who was at the head of
the King's gendarmes, accustomed himself and others to
threaten the chief minister, who augmented the public odium
against himself by re-establishing Emeri, a man detested by
all the kingdom. We were not a little alarmed at his re-estab-
lishment, because this man, who knew Paris better than the
cardinal, distributed money among the people to a very good
purpose. This is a singular science, which is either very bene-
ficial or hurtful in its consequences, according to the wisdom
or folly of the distributor.

These donations, laid out with discretion and secrecy,
obliged us to yield ourselves more and more unto the bulk of
the people, and, finding a fit opportunity for this performance,
we took care not to let it slip, which, if they had been ruled
by me, we should not have done so soon, for we were not
yet forced to make use of such expedients. It is not safe in
a faction where you are only upon the defensive to do what
you are not pressed to do, but the uneasiness of the subalterns
on such occasions is troublesome, because they believe that
as soon as you seem to be inactive all is lost. I preached every
day that the way was yet rough, and therefore must be made
plain, and that patience in the present case was productive of
greater efifects than activity ; but nobody comprehended the
truth of what I said.

An unlucky expression, dropped on this occasion by the
Princesse de Guemenee, had an incredible influence upon the
people. She called to mind a ballad formerly made upon the
regiment of Brulon, which was said to consist of only two
dragoons and four drummers, and, inasmuch as she hated the
Fronde, she told me very pleasantly that our party, being re-
duced to fourteen, might be justly compared to that regiment

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN 139

of Brulon. Noirmoutier and Laigues were offended at this
expression to that degree that they continually murmured be-
cause I neither settled affairs nor pushed them to the last ex-
tremity. Upon which I observed that heads of factions are no
longer their masters when they are unable either to prevent or
allay the murmurs of the people.

The revenues of the Hotel de Ville, which are, as it were,
the patrimony of the bourgeois, and which, if well managed,
might be of special service to the King in securing to his in-
terest an infinite number of those people who are always the
most formidable in revolutions — this sacred fund, I say, suf-
fered much by the licentiousness of the times, the ignorance
of Mazarin, and the prevarication of the ofHcers of the Hotel
de Ville, who were his dependents, so that the poor annuitants
met in great numbers at the Hotel de Ville ; but as such assem-
blies without the prince's authority are reckoned illegal, the
Parliament passed a decree to suppress them. They were pri-
vately countenanced by M. de Beaufort and me, to whom they
sent a solemn deputation, and they made choice of twelve
syndics to be a check upon the prevot des marchands.

On the eleventh of December a pistol, as had been con-
certed beforehand, was fired into the coach of Joly, one of the
syndics, which President Charton, another of the syndics,
thinking was aimed at himself, the Marquis de la Boulaie ran
as if possessed with a devil, while the Parliament was sitting,
into the middle of the Great Hall, with fifteen or twenty worth-
less fellows crying out " To arms ! " He did the like in the
streets, but in vain, and came to Broussel and me ; but the
former reprimanded him after his way, and I threatened to
throw him out at the window, for I had reason to believe that
he acted in concert with the cardinal, though he pretended to
be a Frondeur.

This artifice of Servien united the prince to the cardinal,
because he found himself obliged to defend himself against the
Frondeurs, who, as he believed, sought to assassinate him. All
those that were his own creatures thought they were not zeal-
ous enough for his service if they did not exaggerate the im-
minent danger he had escaped, and the court parasites con-
founded the morning adventure with that at night ; and upon
this coarse canvas they daubed all that the basest flattery, black-

I40 RETZ

est imposture, and the most ridiculous credulity was capable
of imagining"; and we were informed the next morning that
it was the common rumor over all the city that we had formed
a design of seizing the King's person and carrying him to the
Hotel de Ville, and to assassinate the prince.

M. de Beaufort and I agreed to go out and show ourselves
to the people, whom we found in such a consternation that I
believed the court might then have attacked us with success.
Madame de Montbazon advised us to take post-horses and
ride off, saying that there was nothing more easy than to de-
stroy us, because we had put ourselves into the hands of our
sworn enemies. I said that we had better hazard our lives
than our honor. To which she replied, " It is not that, but
your nymphs, I believe, which keep you here [meaning Mes-
dames de Chevreuse and Guemenee]. I expect," she said, " to
be befriended for my own sake, and don't I deserve it? I
cannot conceive how you can be amused by a wicked old hag
and a girl, if possible, still more foolish. We are continually
disputing about that silly wretch [pointing to M. de Beaufort,
who was playing chess] ; let us take him with us and go to
Peronne."

You are not to wonder that she talked thus contemptibly of
M. de Beaufort, whom she always taxed with impotency, for
it is certain that his love was purely Platonic, as he never asked
any favor of her, and seemed very uneasy with her for eating
flesh on Fridays. She was so sweet upon me, and withal such
a charming beauty, that, being naturally indisposed to let such
opportunities slip, I was melted into tenderness for her, not-
withstanding m}^ suspicions of her, considering the then situa-
tion of affairs, and would have had her go with me into the
cabinet, but she was determined first to go to Peronne, which
put an end to our amours.

M. de Beaufort waited on the prince and was well received,
but I could not gain admittance.

On the fourteenth the Prince de Conde went to Parliament
and demanded that a committee might be appointed to inquire
into the attempt made on his life.

The Frondeurs were not asleep in the meantime, yet most of
our friends were dispirited, and all very weak.

The cures of Paris were my most hearty friends ; they

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN

141

labored with incredible zeal among the people. And the cure
of Saint Gervais sent me this message : " Do but rally again and
get off the assassination, and in a week you will be stronger
than your enemies."

I was informed that the Queen had written to my uncle, the
Archbishop of Paris, to be sure to go to the Parliament on
the twenty-third, the day that Beaufort, Broussel, and I were
to be impeached, because I had no right to sit in the House
if he were present. I begged of him not to go, but my uncle
being a man of litde sense, and that much out of order, and
being, moreover, fearful and ridiculously jealous of me, had
promised the Queen to go ; and all that we could get out of
him was that he would defend me in Parliament better than I
could defend myself. It is to be observed that though he chat-
tered to us like a magpie in private, yet in public he was as
mute as a fish. A surgeon who was in the archbishop's service,
going to visit him, commended him for his courage in resist-
ing the importunities of his nephew, who, said he, had a mind
to bury him alive, and encouraged him to rise with all haste
and go to the Parliament House ; but he was no sooner out of
his bed than the surgeon asked him in a fright how he felt.
" Very well," said my lord. " But that is impossible," said
the surgeon ; " you look like death," and feeling his pulse, he
told him he was in a high fever ; upon which my lord arch-
bishop went to bed again, and all the kings and queens in
Christendom could not get him out for a fortnight.

We went to the Parliament, and found there the princes
with nearly a thousand gentlemen and, I may say, the whole
court. I had few salutes in the hall, because it was generally
thought I was an undone man. When I had entered the great
chamber I heard a hum like that at the end of a pleasing period
in a sermon. When I had taken my place I said that, hearing
we were taxed with a seditious conspiracy, we were come to
offer our heads to the Parliament if guilty, and if innocent, to
demand justice upon our accusers ; and that though I knew not
what right the court had to call me to account, yet I would re-
nounce all privileges to make my innocence apparent to a body
for whom I always had the greatest attachment and veneration.

Then the informations were read against what they called
" the public conspiracy from which it had pleased Almighty

142

RETZ

God to deliver the State and the royal family," after which I
made a speech, in substance as follows :

" I do not believe, gentlemen, that in any of the past ages
persons of our quality had ever received any personal summons
grounded merely upon hearsay. Neither can I think that pos-
terity will ever believe that this hearsay evidence was admitted
from the mouths of the most infamous miscreants that ever
got out of a jail. Canto was condemned to the gallows at
Pau, Pichon to the wheel at Mans, Sociande is a rogue upon
record. Pray, gentlemen, judge of their evidence by their
character and profession. But this is not all. They have the
distinguishing character of being informers by authority. I
am sorely grieved that the defence of our honor, which is
enjoined us by the laws of God and man, should oblige me to
expose to light, under the most innocent of kings, such abomi-
nations as were detested in the most corrupt ages of antiquity
and under the worst of tyrants. But I must tell you that
Canto, Sociande, and Gorgibus are authorized to inform
against us by a commission signed by that august name which
should never be employed but for the preservation of the most
sacred laws, and which Cardinal Mazarin, who knows no law
but that of revenge, which he meditates against the defenders
of the public liberty, has forced M. Tellier, secretary of state,
to countersign.

" We demand justice, gentlemen, but we do not demand it
of you till we have first most humbly implored this House
to execute the strictest justice that the laws have provided
against rebels, if it appears that we have been concerned
directly or indirectly in raising this last disturbance. Is it pos-
sible, gentlemen, that a grandchild of Henri the Great, that
a senator of M. Broussel's age and probity, and that the
Coadjutor of Paris should be so much as suspected of being
concerned in a sedition raised by a hot-brained fool, at
the head of fifteen of the vilest of the mob? I am fully per-
suaded it would be scandalous for me to insist longer on
this subject. This is all I know, gentlemen, of the modern
conspiracy."

The applause that came from the court of inquiry was deaf-
ening; many voices were heard exclaiming against spies and
informers. Honest Doujat, who was one of the persons ap-

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN

143

pointed by the Attorney-General Talon, his kinsman, to make
the report, and who had acquainted me with the facts, ac-
knowledged it publicly by pretending to make the thing appear
less odious. He got up, therefore, as if he were in a passion,
and spoke very ^irtfully to this purpose : " These witnesses,
monsieur, are not to accuse you, as you are pleased to say, but
only to discover what passed in the meeting of the annuitants
at the Hotel de Ville. If the King did not promise impunity
to such as will give him information necessary for his service,
and which sometimes cannot be come at without involving
evidence in a crime, how should the King be informed at all ?
There is a great deal of difference between patents of this
nature and commissions granted on purpose to accuse you."

You might have seen fire in the face of every member. The
first president called out " Order ! " and said, " MM. de Beau-
fort, le coadjnteur, and Broussel, you are accused, and you
must withdraw."

As Beaufort and I were leaving our seats, Broussel stopped
us, saying: " Neither you, gentlemen, nor I are bound to de-
part till we are ordered to do so by the court. The first presi-
dent, whom all the world knows to be our adversary, should
go out if we must."

I added, " And M. le Prince," who thereupon said, with a
scornful air :

"What, I? Must I retire?"

" Yes, yes, monsieur," said I, " justice is no respecter of
persons."

The President de Mesmes said : " No, monseigneur, you
must not go out unless the court orders you. If the coadjutor
insists that your Highness retire, he must demand it by a peti-
tion. As for himself, he is accused, and therefore must go out ;
but, seeing he raises difficulties and objections to the contrary,
we must put it to the vote." And it was passed that we should
withdraw.

Meanwhile, most of the members passed encomiums upon
us, satires upon the Ministry, and anathemas upon the wit-
nesses for the Crown. Nor were the cures and the parishioners
wanting in their duty on this occasion. The people came
in shoals from all parts of Paris to the Parliament House.
Nevertheless, no disrespect was shown either to the King's

144 RETZ

brother or to M. le Prince ; only some in their presence
cried out : " God bless M. de Beaufort ! God bless the
coadjutor! "

M. de Beaufort told the first president next day that, the
State and royal family being in danger, every moment was
precious, and that the offenders ought to receive condign pun-
ishment, and that therefore the chambers ought to be assem-
bled without loss of time. Broussel attacked the first presi-
dent with a great deal of warmth. Eight or ten councillors en-
tered immediately into the great chamber to testify their aston-
ishment at the indolence and indifference of the house after
such a furious conspiracy, and that so little zeal was shown
to prosecute the criminals. MM. de Bignon and Talon, coun-
sel for the Crown, alarmed the people by declaring that as
for themselves they had no hand in the conclusions, which
were ridiculous. The first president returned very calm an-
swers, knowing well that we should have been glad to have
put him into a passion in order to catch at some expression
that might bear an exception in law.

On Christmas Day I preached such a sermon on Christian
charity, without mentioning the present affairs, that the women
even wept for the unjust persecution of an archbishop who
had so great a tenderness for his very enemies.

On the twenty-ninth M. de Beaufort and I went to the
Parliament House, accompanied by a body of 300 gen-
tlemen, to make it appear that we were more than tribunes
of the people, and to screen ourselves from the insults of the
court party. We posted ourselves in the Fourth Chamber of
the Inquests, among the courtiers, with whom we conversed
very frankly, yet upon the least noise, when the debates ran
high in the great chamber, we were ready to cut one another's
throats eight or ten times every morning. We were all dis-
trustful of one another, and I may venture to say there were
not twenty persons in the House but were armed with daggers.
As for myself, I had resolved to take none of those weapons
inconsistent with my character, till one day, when it was ex-
pected the House would be more excited than usual, and then
M. de Beaufort, seeing one end of the weapon peeping out of
my pocket, exposed it to M. le Prince's captain of the guards
and others, saying, " See, gentlemen, the coadjutor's prayer-

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN 145

book." I understood the jest, but really I could not well
digest it.

We petitioned the Parliament that the first president, being
our sworn enemy, might be expelled the House, but it was put
to the vote and carried by a majority of thirty-six that he should
retain his station of judge.

Paris narrowly escaped a commotion at the time of the im-
prisonment of Belot, one of the syndics of the Hotel de Ville
annuitants, who, being arrested without a decree. President de
la Grange made it apear that there was nothing more contrary
to the declaration for which they had formerly so exerted them-
selves. The first president maintaining the legality of his im-
prisonment, Daurat, a councillor of the third chamber, told
him that he was amazed that a gentleman who was so lately
near being expelled could be so resolute in violating the laws
so flagrantly. Whereupon the first president rose in a pas-
sion, saying that there was neither order nor discipline in the
House, and that he would resign his place to another for whom
they had more respect. This motion put the great chamber
all in a ferment, which was felt in the fourth, where the gen-
tlemen of both parties hastened to support their respective sides,
and if the most insignificant lackey had then but drawn a
sword, Paris would have been all in an uproar.

We solicited very earnestly for our trial, which they delayed
as much as it was in their power, because they could not
choose but acquit us and condemn the Crown witnesses.
Various were the pretences for putting it off, and though the
informations were not of sufficient weight to hang a dog, yet
they were read over and over at every turn to prolong the
time.

The public began to be persuaded of our innocence, as also
the Prince de Conde, and M. de Bouillon told me that he
very much suspected it to be a trick of the cardinal's.

On January i, 1650, Madame de Chevreuse, having a mind
to visit the Queen, with whom she had carried on in all her
disgrace an unaccountable correspondence, went to the King's
palace. The cardinal, taking her aside in the Queen's little
cabinet, said to her :

" You love the Queen. Is it not possible for you to make
your friends love her? "
10

146 RETZ

"How can that be?" said she; "the Queen is no more a
queen, but a humble servant to M. le Prince."

" Good God ! " rephed the cardinal ; " we might do great
things if we could get some men into our interest. But M. de
Beaufort is at the service of Madame de Montbazon, and she
is devoted to Vigneul and the coadjutor"; at the mention of
which he smiled. " I take you, monsieur," said Madame de
Chevreuse ; " I will answer for him and for her."

Thus the conversation began, and the cardinal making a
sign to the Queen, Madame de Chevreuse had a long con-
ference that night with her Majesty, who gave her this billet
for me, written and signed with her own hand :

Notwithstanding what has passed and what is now doing, I cannot
but persuade myself that M. le Coadjuteur is in my interest. I desire to
see him, and that nobody may know it but Madame and Mademoiselle de
Chevreuse. This name shall be your security. Anne.

Being convinced that the Queen was downright angry with
the Prince de Conde on account of a rumor spread abroad that
he had some intriguing gallantries with her Majesty, I weighed
all circumstances and returned this answer to the Queen :

Never was there one moment of my life wherein I was not devoted to
your Majesty. I am so far from consulting my own safety that I would
gladly die for your service. ... I will go to any place your Majesty shall
order me.

My answer, with the Queen's letter enclosed, was carried
back by Madame de Chevreuse and well received. I went
immediately to court, and was taken up the back staircase by
the Queen's train-bearer to the petit oratoire, where her Majesty
was shut up all alone. She showed me as much kindness as
she could, considering her hatred against M. le Prince and her
friendship for the cardinal, though the latter seemed the more
to prevail, because in speaking of the civil wars and of the car-
dinal's friendship for me she called him " the poor cardinal "
twenty times over. Half an hour after, the cardinal came in,
who begged the Queen to dispense with the respect he owed
her Majesty while he embraced me in her presence. He was
pleased to say he was very sorry that he could not give me that
very moment his own cardinal's cap. He talked so much of

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN

147

favors, gratifications, and rewards that I was obliged to ex-
plain myself, knowing that nothing is more destructive of new
reconciliations than a seeming unwillingness to be obliged to
those to whom you are reconciled. I answered that the great-
est recompense I could expect, though I had saved the Crown,
was to have the honor of serving her Majesty, and I humbly
prayed the Queen to give me no other recompense, that at least
I might have the satisfaction to make her Majesty sensible that
this was the only reward I valued.

The cardinal desired the Queen to command me to accept
of the nomination to the cardinalate, " which," said he, " La
Riviere has snatched with insolence and acknowledged with
treachery." I excused myself by saying that I had taken a
resolution never to accept of the cardinalship by any means
which seemed to have relation to the civil wars, to the end that
I might convince the Queen that it was the most rigid neces-
sity which had separated me from her service. I rejected upon
the same account all the other advantageous propositions he
made me, and, he still insisting that the Queen could do no less
than confer upon me something that was very considerable for
the signal service I was likely to do her Majesty, I answered :
" There is one point wherein the Queen can do me more good
than if she gave me a triple crown. Her Majesty told me just
now that she will cause M. le Prince to be apprehended. A
person of his high rank and merit neither can nor ought to
be always shut up in prison, for when he comes abroad he
will be full of resentment against me, though I hope my dig-
nity will be my protection. There are a great many gen-
tlemen engaged with me who, in such a juncture, would
be ready to serve the Queen. And if it seemed good to your
Majesty to intrust one of them with some important em-
ployment, I should be more pleased than with ten cardi-
nals' hats."

The cardinal told the Queen that nothing was more just,
and the affair should be considered between him and me.

We had several conferences, at which we agreed on gratifica-
tions for some of our friends and to arrest the Prince de Conde,
the Prince de Conti, and the Due de Longueville.

The cardinal took occasion to speak of the treachery of La
Riviere. " This man," said he, " takes me to be the most

148 RETZ

stupid creature living, and thinks he shall be to-morrow a
cardinal. I diverted myself to-day with letting him try on some
scarlet cloth I lately received from Italy, and I put it near his
face to know whether a scarlet color or carnation became him
best."

I heard from Rome that his Eminence was not behindhand
with La Riviere upon the score of treachery. For on the very
day he got him nominated by the King, he wrote a letter to
Cardinal Sachelli more fit to recommend him to a yellow cap
than to a red one. This letter, nevertheless, was full of ten-
derness for La Riviere, which Mazarin knew was the only way
to ruin him with Pope Innocent, who hated Mazarin and all
his adherents.

Madame de Chevreuse undertook to see how the Due
d'Orleans would relish the design of imprisoning the princes.
She told him that, though the Queen was not satisfied with
M. le Prince, yet she could not form a resolution of apprehend-
ing him without the concurrence of his Royal Highness. She
magnified the advantages of bringing over to the King's ser-
vice the powerful faction of the Fronde, and the daily dangers
Paris was exposed to, both by fire and sword. This last reason
touched him as much or more than all, for he trembled every
time he came to the Parliament ; M. le Prince very often could
not prevail upon him to go at all, and a fit of colic was gen-
erally assigned as the reason of his absence. At length he con-
sented, and on January i8th the three princes were put under
arrest by three officers of the Queen's Guards.

The people having a notion that M. de Beaufort was appre-
hended, ran to their arms, which I caused to be laid down im-
mediately, by marching through the streets with flambeaux be-
fore me. M. de Beaufort did the like, and the night concluded
with bonfires.

The Queen sent a letter from the King to the Parliament
with the reasons, which were neither strong nor well set out,
why the Prince de Conde was confined. However, we ob-
tained a decree for our absolution.

The princesses were ordered to retire to Chantilly. Ma-
dame de Longueville went toward Normandy, but found no
sanctuary there, for the Parliament of Rouen sent her a mes-
sage to desire her to depart from the city. The Due de

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN

149

Richelieu would not receive her into Havre, and from there
she retired to Dieppe.

M. de Bouillon, who after the peace was strongly attached
to the Prince de Conde, went in great haste to Turenne; M.
de Turenne got into Stenai ; M. de La Rochefoucault, then
Prince de Marsillac, returned home to Poitou ; and Marechal
de Breze, father-in-law to the Prince de Conde, went to
Saumur.

There was a declaration published and registered in Par-
liament against them, whereby they were ordered to wait on
the King within fifteen days, upon pain of being proceeded
against as disturbers of the public peace and guilty of high
treason.

The court carried all before them. Madame de Longueville,
upon the King going into Normandy, escaped by sea into
Holland, whence she went afterward to Arras, to try La Tour,
one of her husband's pensioners, who offered her his person,
but refused her the place. She repaired at last to Stenai,
whither M. de Turenne went to meet her, with all the friends
and servants of the confined princes that he could muster. The
King went from Normandy to Burgundy, and returned to
Paris crowned with laurels of victory.

The princess-dowager, who had been ordered to retire to
Bourges, came with a petition to Parliament, praying for their
protection to stay in Paris, and that she might have justice
done her for the illegal confinement of the princes her children.
She fell at the feet of the Due d'Orleans, begged the protection
of the Due de Beaufort, and said to me that she had the
honor to be my kinswoman. M. de Beaufort was very much
perplexed what to do, and I was nearly ready to die for shame ;
but we could do nothing for her, and she was obliged to go to
Valery.

Several private annuitants, who had made a noise in the
assemblies at the Hotel de Ville, were afraid of being called
to account, and therefore, after M. le Prince was arrested, they
desired me to procure a general amnesty. I spoke about it to
the cardinal, who seemed very pliable, and, showing me his
hat-band, which was a la mode de la Fronde, said he hoped him-
self to be comprised in that amnesty ; but he shuffled it off
so long that it was not published and registered in Parliament

150 RETZ

till May 12th, and it would not have been obtained then had
not I threatened vigorously to prosecute the Crown witnesses,
of which they were mightily apprehensive, being so conscious
of the heinousness of their crime that two of them had already
made their escape.

The present calm hardly deserved that name, for the storm
of war began to rise again in several places at once.

Madame de Longueville and M. de Turenne made a treaty
with the Spaniards, and the latter joined their army, which
entered Picardy and besieged Guise, after having taken Cate-
let ; but for want of provisions the archduke was obliged to
raise the siege. M. de Turenne levied troops with Spanish
money, and was joined by the greater part of the officers com-
manding the soldiers that went under the name of the prince's
troops.

The wretched conduct of M. d'Epernon had so confounded
the affairs of Guienne that nothing but his removal could re-
trieve them.

One of the greatest mischiefs which the despotic authority
of ministers has occasioned in the world in these later times
is a practice, occasioned by their ow^n private mistaken inter-
ests, of always supporting superiors against their inferiors. It
is a maxim borrowed from Machiavelli, whom few understand,
and whom too many cry up for an able man because he was
always wicked. He was very far from being a complete states-
man, and was frequently out in his politics, but I think never
more grossly mistaken than in this maxim, which I observed
as a great weakness in Mazarin, who was therefore the less
qualified to settle the affairs of Guienne, which were in so
much confusion that I believe if the good sense of Jeannin and
Villeroi had been infused into the brains of Cardinal de Riche-
lieu, it would not have been suf^cient to set them right.

Senneterre, perceiving that Cardinal Mazarin and I were not
cordial friends, undertook to reconcile us, and for that end
took me to the cardinal, who embraced me very tenderly, said
he laid his heart upon the table — that was one of his usual
phrases — and protested he would talk as freely to me as if I
were his own son. I did not believe a word of what he said,
but I assured his Eminence that I would speak to him as if
he were my father, and I was as good as my word. I told him

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN 151

I had no personal interest in view but to disengage myself from
the public disturbances without any private advantage, and
that for the same reason I thought myself obliged to come
off with reputation and honor. I desired him to consider that
my age and want of skill in public affairs could not give
him any jealousy that I aimed to be the first minister. I con-
jured him to consider also that the influence I had over the
people of Paris, supported by mere necessity, did rather reflect
disgrace than honor upon my dignity, and that he ought to be-
lieve that this one reason was enough to make me impatient to
be rid of all these public broils, beside a thousand other in-
conveniences arising every moment, which disgusted me with
faction. And as for the dignity of cardinal, which might per-
adventure give him some umbrage, I could tell him very sin-
cerely what had been and what was still my notion of this
dignity, which I once foolishly imagined would be more hon-
orable for me to despise than to enjoy. I mentioned this cir-
cumstance to let him see that in my tender years I was no
admirer of the purple, and not very fond of it now, because I
was persuaded that an Archbishop of Paris could hardly miss
obtaining that dignity some time or other, according to form,
by actions purely ecclesiastical; and that he should be loath
to use any other means to procure it.

I said that I should be extremely sorry if my purple were
stained with the least drop of blood spilt in the civil wars ; that
I was resolved to clear my hands of everything that savored
of intrigue before I would make or suffer any step which had
any tendency that way ; that he knew that for the same reason
I would neither accept money nor abbeys, and that, conse-
quently, I was engaged by the public declarations I had made
upon all those heads to serve the Queen without any interest ;
that the only end I had in view, and in which I never wavered,
was to come off with honor, so that I might resume the
spiritual functions belonging to my profession with safety;
that I desired nothing from him but the accomplishment of an
affair which would be more for the King's service than for my
particular interest ; that he knew that the day after the arrest
of the prince he sent me with his promise to the annuitants of
the Hotel de Ville, and that for want of performance those men
were persuaded that I was in concert with the court to deceive

152 RETZ

them. Lastly, I told him that the access I had to the Due
d'Orleans might perhaps give him umbrage, but I desired him
to consider that I never sought that honor, and that I was very
sensible of the inconveniences attending it. I enlarged upon
this head, which is the most difficult point to be understood by
prime ministers, who are so fond of being freely admitted
into a prince's presence that, notwithstanding all the experience
in the world, they cannot help thinking that therein consists
the essence of happiness.

When truth has come to a certain point, it darts such pow-
erful rays of light as are irresistible, but I never knew a man
who had so little regard for truth as Mazarin. He seemed,
however, more regardful of it than usual, and I laid hold of the
occasion to tell him of the dangerous consequences of the dis-
turbances of Guienne, and that if he continued to support M,
d'fipernon, the prince's faction would not let this opportunity
slip ; that if the Parliament of Bordeaux should engage in their
party, it would not be long before that of Paris would do the
same ; that, after the late conflagration in this metropolis, he
could not suppose but that there was still some fire hidden
under the ashes ; and that the factious party had reason to fear
the heavy punishment to which the whole body of them was
liable, as we ourselves were two or three months ago. The
cardinal began to yield, especially when he was told that M.
de Bouillon began to make a disturbance in the Limousin,
where M. de La Rochefoucault had joined him with some
troops.

To confirm our reconciliation, a marriage was proposed be-
tween my niece and his nephew, to which he gave his consent ;
but I was much averse to it, being not yet resolved to bury my
family in that of Mazarin, nor did I set so great a value on
grandeur as to purchase it with the public odium. However,
it produced no animosity on either side, and his friends knew
that I should be very glad to be employed in making a gen-
eral peace ; they acted their parts so well that the cardinal,
whose love-fit for me lasted about a fortnight, promised me,
as it were of his own accord, that I should be gratified.

News came about this time from Guienne that the Dues
de Bouillon and de La Rochefoucault had taken Madame la
Princesse into Bordeaux, together with M. le Due, her son.

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN

153

The Parliament was not displeased with the people for receiv-
ing into their city M. le Due, yet they observed more decorum
than could be expected from the inhabitants of Gascogne, so
irritated as they were against M. d'Epernon. They ordered
that Madame la Princesse, M. le Due, MM. de Bouillon and de
La Rochefoucault should have liberty to stay in Bordeaux,
provided they would promise to undertake nothing against the
King's service, and that the petition of Madame la Princesse
should be sent to the King with a most humble remonstrance
from the Parliament against the confinement of the princes.

At the same time, one of the presidents sent word to Senne-
terre that the Parliament was not so far enraged but that
they would still remember their loyalty to the King, provided
he did but remove M. d'Epernon. But in case of any further
delay he would not answer for the Parliament, and much less
for the people, who, being now managed and supported by the
prince's party, would in a little time make themselves masters
of the Parliament. Senneterre did what he could to induce
the cardinal to make good use of this advice, and M. de
Chateauneuf, who was now chancellor, talked wonderfully well
upon the point, but seeing the cardinal gave no return to his
reasons but by exclaiming against the Parliament of Bordeaux
for sheltering men condemned by the King's declaration, he
said to him very plainly : " Set out to-morrow, monsieur, if
you do not arrange matters to-day ; you should have been by
this time upon the Garonne."

The event proved that Chateauneuf was in the right, for
though the Parliament was very excited, they stood out a long
time against the madness of the people, spurred on by M. de
Bouillon, and issued a decree ordering an envoy of Spain,
who was sent thither to commence a treaty with the Due de
Bouillon, to depart the city, and forbade any of their body to
visit such as had correspondence with Spain, the princess her-
self not excepted. Moreover, the mob having undertaken to
force the Parliament to unite with the princes, the Parliament
armed the magistracy, who fired upon the people and made
them retire.

A little time before the King departed for Guienne, which
was in the beginning of July, word came that the Parliament of
Bordeaux had consented to a union with the princes, and had

154

RETZ

sent a deputy to the Parliament of Paris, who had orders to see
neither the King nor the ministers, and that the whole province
was disposed for a revolt. The cardinal was in extreme con-
sternation, and commended himself to the favor of the mean-
est man of the Fronde with the greatest suppleness imaginable.

As soon as the King came to the neighborhood of Bor-
deaux the deputies of Parliament, who went to meet the court
at Lebourne, were peremptorily commanded to open the gates
of the city to the King and to all his troops. They answered
that one of their privileges was to guard the King themselves
while he was in any of their towns. Upon this, Marechal de
La Meilleraye seized the castle of Vaire, in the command of
Pichon, whom the cardinal ordered to be hanged ; and M. de
Bouillon hanged an officer in Meilleraye's army by way of
reprisal.

After that the marshal besieged the city in form, which, de-
spairing of succor from Spain, was forced to capitulate upon
the following terms :

That a general pardon should be granted to all who had
taken up arms and treated with Spain, that all the soldiers
should be disbanded except those whom the King had a mind
to keep in his pay, that Madame la Princesse and the duke
should be at liberty to reside either in Anjou or at Mouzon,
with no more than two hundred foot and sixty horse, and that
M. d'Epernon should be recalled from the government of
Guienne.

The princess had an interview with both the King and
Queen, at which there were great conferences between the
cardinal and the Dues de Bouillon and de La Rochefoucault.

The deputy from Bordeaux, arriving at Paris soon after the
King's departure, went immediately to Parliament, and, after
an eloquent harangue, presented a letter from the Parliament of
Bordeaux, together with their decrees, and demanded a union
between the two Parliaments. After some debates it was re-
solved that the deputy should deliver his credentials in writing,
W'hich should be presented to his Majesty by the deputies of
the Parliament of Paris, who would, at the same time, most
humbly beseech the Queen to restore peace to Guienne.

The Due d'Orleans was against debating about the petition
to the Queen for the liberation of the princes and the banish-

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN 155

ment of Cardinal Mazarin ; nevertheless, many of the members
voted for it, upon a motion made by the President Viole, who
was a warm partisan of the Prince de Conde, not because he
had hopes of carrying it, but on purpose to embarrass M. de
Beaufort and myself upon a subject of which we did not care
to speak, and yet did not dare to be altogether silent about,
without passing in some measure for Mazarinists. President
Viole did the prince a great deal of service on this occasion,
for Bourdet — a brave soldier, who had been captain of the
guards and was attached to the interest of the prince — per-
formed an action which emboldened the party very much,
though it had no success. He dressed himself and four score
other officers of his troops in mason's clothes, and having
assembled many of the dregs of the people, to whom he had
distributed money, came directly to the Due d'Orleans as he
was going out, and cried, " No Mazarin ! God bless the
princes ! " His Royal Highness, at this apparition and the
firing of a brace of pistols at the same time by Bourdet, ran to
the great chamber ; but M. de Beaufort stood his ground so well
with the duke's guards and our men, that Bourdet was re-
pulsed and thrown down the Parliament stairs.

But the confusion in the great chamber was still worse.
There were daily assemblies, wherein the cardinal was severely
attacked, and the prince's party had the pleasure of exposing
us as his accomplices. What is very strange is that at the
same time the cardinal and his friends accused us of corre-
sponding with the Parliament of Bordeaux, because we main-
tained, in case the court did not adjust affairs there, we would
infallibly bring the Parliament of Paris into the interest of the
prince. If I were at the point of death I should have no
need to be confessed on account of my behavior on this occa-
sion. I acted with as much sincerity in this juncture as if I
had been the cardinal's nephew, though really it was not out
of any love to him, but because I thought myself obliged in
prudence to oppose the progress of the prince's faction, ow-
ing to the foolish conduct of his enemies ; and to this end I was
obliged to oppose the flattery of the cardinal's tools as much
as the efiforts made by those who were in the service of the
prince.

On September 3d President Bailleul returned with the other

156 RETZ

deputies, and made a report in Parliament of his journey to
court ; it was, in brief, that the Queen thanked the ParUament
for their good intentions, and had commanded them to assure
the ParHament in her name that she was ready to restore
peace to Guienne, and that it would have been done before now
had not M. de Bouillon, who had treated with the Spaniards,
made himself master of Bordeaux, and thereby cut off the
effects of his Majesty's goodness.

The Due d'Orleans informed the House that he had received
a letter from the archduke, signifying that the King of Spain
having sent him full powers to treat for a general peace, he
desired earnestly to negotiate it with him. But his Royal
Highness added that he did not think it proper to return him
any answer till he had the opinion of the Parliament. The
trumpeter who brought the letter gathered a party at Tiroir
cross, and spoke very seditious words to the people. The next
day they found libels posted up and down the city in the name
of M. de Turenne, setting forth that the archduke was coming
with no other disposition than to make peace, and in one of
them were these words : " It is your business, Parisians, to
solicit your false tribunes, who have turned at last pensioners
and protectors of Mazarin, who have for so long a time sported
with your fortunes and repose, and spurred you on, kept you
back, and made you hot or cold, according to the caprices and
different progress of their ambition."

You see the state and condition the Frondeurs were in at
this juncture, when they could not move one step but to their
own disadvantage. The Due d'Orleans spoke to me that night
with a great deal of bitterness against the cardinal, which he
had never done before, and said he had been tricked by him
twice, and that he was ruining himself, the State, and all of us,
and would, by so doing, place the Prince de Conde upon the
throne. In short, monsieur owned that it was not yet time to
humble the cardinal. " Therefore," said M. Bellievre, " let us
be upon our guard ; this man can give us the slip any moment."

Next day a letter was sent from the Prince de Conde, by the
Baron de Verderonne, to the archduke, desiring him to name
the time, place, and persons for a treaty. The baron returned
with a letter from the archduke to his Royal Highness, desir-
ing that the conferences might be held between Rheims and

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN 157

Rhetel, and that they might meet there personally, with such
others as they should think fit to bring with them. The court
was surprised, but, however, did not think fit to delay sending
full powers to his Royal Highness to treat for peace on such
terms as he thought reasonable and advantageous for the
King's service ; and there were joined with him, though in sub-
ordination, MM. Mole, the first president, d'Avaux, and my-
self, with the title of ambassadors extraordinary and pleni-
potentiaries. M. d'Avaux obliged me to assure Don Gabriel
de Toledo, in private, that if the Spaniards would but come to
reasonable terms, we would conclude a peace with them in
two days' time. And his Royal Highness said that Don Ga-
briel being a lover of money, I should promise him for his
part 100,000 crowns if the conference that was proposed ended
in a peace, and bid him tell the archduke that, if the Spaniards
proposed reasonable terms, he would sign and have them regis-
tered in Parliament before Mazarin should know anything of
the matter.

Don Gabriel received the overture with joy; he had some
particular fancies, but Fuensaldagne, who had a particular kind-
ness for him, said that he was the wisest fool he ever saw in
his life. I have remarked more than once that this sort of man
cannot persuade, but can insinuate perfectly well, and that
the talent of insinuation is of more service than that of per-
suasion, because one may insinuate to a hundred where one
can hardly persuade five.

The King of England, after having lost the battle of Wor-
cester, arrived in Paris the day that Don Gabriel set out —
September 13, 165 1. My Lord Tafif was his great cham.ber-
lain, valet de chamhre, clerk of the kitchen, cup-bearer, and all —
an equipage answerable to his court, for his Majesty had not
changed his shirt all the way from England. Upon his arrival
at Paris, indeed, he had one lent him by my Lord Jermyn ; but
the Queen, his mother, had not money to buy him another for
the next day. The Due d'Orleans went to compliment his
Majesty upon his arrival, but it was not in my power to per-
suade his Royal Highness to give his nephew one penny,
because, said he, " a little would not be worth his acceptance,
and a great deal would engage me to do as much hereafter."
This leads me to make the following digression : that there is

..^

158 RETZ

nothing so wretched as to be a minister to a prince, and, at the
same time, not his favorite ; for it is his favor only that gives
one a power over the more minute concerns of the family,
for which the public does, nevertheless, think a minister ac-
countable when they see he has power over affairs of far
greater consequence.

Therefore I was not in a condition to oblige his Royal High-
ness by assisting the King of England with a thousand pistoles,
for which I was horridly ashamed, both upon his account and
my own ; but I borrowed fifteen hundred for him from M.
Morangis, and carried them to my Lord Tafif.^ It is remark-
able that the same night, as I was going home, I met one
Tilney, an Englishman whom I had formerly known at Rome,
who told me that Vere, a great parliamentarian and a favorite
of Cromwell, had arrived in Paris and had orders to see me.
I was a little puzzled ; however, I judged it would be improper
to refuse him an interview. Vere gave me a brief letter from
Cromwell in the nature of credentials, importing that the senti-
ments I had enunciated in the " Defence of Public Liberty "
added to my reputation, and had induced Cromwell to desire
to enter with me into the strictest friendship. The letter was
in the main wonderfully civil and complaisant. I answered it
with a great deal of respect, but in such a manner as became a
true Catholic and an honest Frenchman. Vere appeared to be
a man of surprising abilities.

I now return to our own affairs. I was told as a mighty
secret that Tellier had orders from the cardinal to remove the
princes from the Bois de Vincennes if the enemy were likely
to come near the place, and that he should endeavor by all
means to procure the consent of the Due d'Orleans for that
end; but that, in case of refusal, these orders should be exe-
cuted notv/ithstanding, and that he should endeavor to gain
me to these measures by the means of Madame de Chevreuse.
When Tellier came to me I assured him that it was all one,
both to me and the Due d'Orleans, whether the princes were
removed or not, but since my opinion was desired, I must de-
clare that I think nothing can be more contrary to the true
interest of the King ; " for," said I, " the Spaniards must gain

^ Lord Clarendon extols the civilities tion which the cardinal had with that
of Cardinal de Retz to King Charles II, prince,
and has reported a curious conversa-

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN

159

a battle before they can come to Vincennes, and when there
they must have a flying camp to invest the place before they
can deliver the princes from confinement, and therefore I am
convinced that there is no necessity for their removal, and I do
affirm that all unnecessary changes in matters which are in
themselves disagreeable are pernicious, because odious.

" I will maintain, further, that there is less reason to fear
the Due d'Orleans and the Frondeurs than to dread the Span-
iards. Suppose that his Royal Highness is more disaffected
toward the court than anybody; suppose further that M. de
Beaufort and I have a mind to relieve the princes, in what way
could we do it? Is not the whole garrison in that castle in
the King's service? Has his Royal Highness any regular
troops to besiege Vincennes ? And, granting the Frondeurs to
be the greatest fools imaginable, will they expose the people
of Paris at a siege which two thousand of the King's troops
might raise in a quarter of an hour though it consist of a hun-
dred thousand citizens ? I therefore conclude that the removal
would be altogether impolitic. Does it not look rather as if
the cardinal feigns apprehension of the Spaniards only as a
pretence to make himself master of the princes, and to dispose
of their persons at pleasure? The generality of the people,
being Frondeurs, will conclude you take the Prince de Conde
out of their hands — whom they look upon to be safe while
they see him walking upon the battlements of his prison —
and that you will give him his liberty when you please, and
thus enable him to besiege Paris a second time.

" On the other hand, the prince's party will improve this re-
moval very much to their own advantage by the compassion
such a spectacle will raise in the people when they see three
princes dragged in chains from one prison to another. I was
really mistaken just now when I said the case was all one to
me, for I see that I am nearly concerned, because the people
— in which word I include the Parliament — will cry out against
it ; I must be then obliged, for my own safety, to say I did
not approve of the resolution. Then the court will be informed
that I find fault with it, and not only that, but that I do it
in order to raise the mob and discredit the cardinal, which,
though ever so false, yet in consequence the people will firmly
believe it, and thus I shall meet with the same treatment I

i6o RETZ

met with in the beginning of the late troubles, and what I even
now experience in relation to the affairs of Guienne. I am said
to be the cause of these troubles because I foretold them, and
I was said to encourage the revolt at Bordeaux because I was
against the conduct that occasioned it."

Tellier, in the Queen's name, thanked me for my unresist-
ing disposition, and made the same proposal to his Royal
Highness ; upon which I spoke, not to second Tellier, who
pleaded for the necessity of the removal, to which I could by
no means be reconciled, but to make it evident to his Royal
Highness that he was not in any way concerned in it in his
own private capacity, and that, in case the Queen did command
it positively, it was his duty to obey. M. de Beaufort opposed
it so furiously as to offer the Due d'Orleans to attack the
guards which were to remove him. I had solid reasons to
dissuade him from it, to the last of which he submitted, it
being an argument which I had from the Queen's own mouth
when she set out for Guienne, that Bar offered to assassinate
the princes if it should happen that he was not in a condition
to hinder their escape. I was astonished when her Majesty
trusted me with this secret, and imagined that the cardinal had
possessed her with a fear that the Frondeurs had a design to
seize the person of the Prince de Conde. For my part, I
never dreamed of such a thing in my life. The Dues d'Orleans
and de Beaufort were both shocked at the thought of it, and,
in short, it was agreed that his Royal Highness should give his
consent for the removal, and that M. de Beaufort and myself
should not give it out among the people that we approved of it.
The day that the princes were removed to Marcoussi
President Bellievre told the keeper of the seals in plain terms,
that if he continued to treat me as he had done hitherto, he
should be obliged in honor to give his testimony to the truth.
To which the keeper of the seals returned this blunt answer:
" The princes are no longer in sight of Paris ; the coadjutor
must not therefore talk so loud."

I return now to the Parliament, which was so moderate at
this time that the cardinal was hardly mentioned, and they
agreed, ncmine contra diccnfc, that the Parliament should send
deputies to Bordeaux to know once for all if that Parliament
was for peace or not.

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN i6i

Soon after this the ParHament of Toulouse wrote to that of
Paris concerning the disturbances in Guienne, part whereof be-
longed to their jurisdiction, and expressly demanded a decree
of union. But the Due d'Orleans warded off the blow very
dexterously, which was of great consequence, and, more by
his address than by his authority, brought the Parliament to
dismiss the deputies with civil answers and insignificant ex-
pressions, upon which President Bellievre said to me, " What
pleasure should we not take in acting as we do if it were for
persons that had but the sense to appreciate it ! "

The Parliament did not continue long in that calm. They
passed a decree to interrogate the State prisoners in the Bas-
tille, broke out sometimes like a whirlwind, with thunder and
lightning, against Cardinal Mazarin ; at other times they com-
plained of the misapplication of the public funds. We had
much ado to ward off the blows, and should not have been
able to hold out long against the fury of the waves but for the
news of the Peace of Bordeaux, which was registered there
on October i, 1650, and put the Prince de Conde's party into
consternation.

One mean artifice of Cardinal Mazarin's polity was always
to entertain some men of our own party, with whom, half
reconciled, he played fast and loose before our eyes, and was
eternally negotiating with them, deceiving and being deceived in
his turn. The consequence of all this was a great, thick cloud,
wherein the Frondeurs themselves were at last involved ; but
which they burst with a thunderclap.

The cardinal, being puffed up with his success in settling the
troubles of Guienne, thought of nothing else than crowning
his triumph by chastising the Frondeurs, who, he said, had
made use of. the King's absence to alienate the Due d'Orleans
from his service, to encourage the revolt at Bordeaux, and to
make themselves masters of the persons of the princes. At
the same time, he told the Princess Palatine that he detested
the cruel hatred I bore to the Prince de Conde, and that the
propositions I made daily to him on that score were altogether
unworthy of a Christian. Yet he suggested to the Due d'Or-
leans that I made great overtures to him to be reconciled to the
court, but that he could not trust me, because I was from morn-
ing to night negotiating with the friends of the Prince de
II

i62 RETZ

Conde. Thus the cardinal rewarded me for what I did with in-
credible application and, I must say, uncommon sincerity for
the Queen's service during the court's absence. I do not men-
tion the dangers I was in twice or thrice a day, surpassing even
those of soldiers in battles. For imagine, I beseech you, what
pain and anguish I must have been in at hearing myself called
a Mazarinist, and at having to bear all the odium annexed to
that hateful appellation in a city where he made it his business
to destroy me in the opinion of a prince whose nature it was to
be always in fear and to trust none but such as hoped to rise
by my fall.

The cardinal gave himself such airs after the peace at Bor-
deaux that some said my best way would be to retire before
the King's return.

Cardinal Mazarin had been formerly secretary to Pancirole,
the Pope's nuncio for the peace of Italy, whom he betrayed,
and it was proved that he had a secret correspondence with
the Governor of Milan. Pancirole, being created cardinal and
secretary of state to the Church, did not forget the perfidious-
ness of his secretary, now created cardinal by Pope Urban, at
the request of Cardinal de Richelieu, and did not at all endeavor
to qualify the anger which Pope Innocent had conceived
against Mazarin after the assassination of one of his nephews,
in conjunction with Cardinal Anthony.^ Pancirole, who
thought he could not affront Mazarin more than by contribut-
ing to make me cardinal, did me all the kind offices with Pope
Innocent, who gave him leave to treat with me in that afTair.

Madame de Chevreuse told the Queen all that she had ob-
served in my conduct in the King's absence, and what she had
seen was certainly one continued series of considerable services
done to the Queen. She recounted at last all the injustice done
me, the contempt put upon me, and the just grounds of my
diffidence, which, she said, of necessity ought to be removed,
and that the only means of removing it was the hat. The
Queen was in a passion at this. The cardinal defended himself,
not by an open denial, for he had offered it me several times, but
by recommending patience, intimating that a great monarch

* Anthony Barberini, nephew to Ur- 1653. He was afterward Bishop of Poi-

ban VTTI. created cardinal 1628. made tiers, and, lastly. Archbishop of Rheims

protector of the orown of France 1633, in 1657. He died in 1671.
and great almoner of the kingdom

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN 163

should be forced to nothing. Monsieur, seconding Madame de
Chevreuse in her attack, assailed the cardinal, who, at least in
appearance, gave way, out of respect for his Royal Highness.
Madame de Chevreuse, having brought them to parley, did not
doubt that she should also bring them to capitulate, especially
when she saw the Queen was appeased, and had told his Royal
Highness that she was infinitely obliged to him, and would do
what her council judged most proper and reasonable. This
council, which was only a specious name, consisted only of the
cardinal, the keeper of the seals, Tellier, and Servien.

The matter was proposed to the council by the cardinal
with much importunity, concluding with a most submissive
petition to the Queen to condescend to the demand of the Due
d'Orleans, and to what the services and merits of the coad-
jutor demanded. The proposition was rejected with such reso-
lution and contempt as is very unusual in council in opposition
to a prime minister. Tellier and Servien thought it sufficient
not to applaud him ; but the keeper of the seals quite forgot his
respect for the cardinal, accused him of prevarication and weak-
ness, and threw himself at her Majesty's feet, conjuring her
in the name of the King her son, not to authorize, by an ex-
ample which he called fatal, the insolence of a subject who
was for wresting favors from his sovereign, sword in hand.
The Queen was moved at this, and the poor cardinal owned he
had been too easy and pliant.

I had myself given a very natural handle to my adversaries to
expose me so egregiously. I have been guilty of many blun-
ders, but I think this is the grossest that I ever was guilty of
in all my life. I have frequendy made this observation, that
when men have, through fear of miscarriage, hesitated a long
time about any undertaking of consequence, the remaining im-
pressions of their fear commonly push them afterward with
too much precipitancy upon the execution of their design.
And this was my case. It was with the greatest reluctance
that I determined to accept the dignity of a cardinal, because
I thought it too mean to form a pretension to it without cer-
tainty of success ; and no sooner was I engaged in the pursuit
of it but the impression of the former fearful ideas hurried me
on, as it were, to the end, that I might get as soon as possible
out of the disagreeable state of uncertainty.

i64 RETZ

The cardinal would have paid my debts, given me the place
of grand almoner, etc. ; but if he had added twelve cardinals'
hats into the bargain, I should have begged his excuse. I was
now engaged with Monsieur, who had, meanwhile, resolved
upon the release of the princes from their confinement.

Cardinal Mazarin, after his return to Paris, made it his chief
study to divide the Fronde. He thought to materially weaken
my interest with Monsieur by detaching from me Madame de
Chevreuse, for whom he had a natural tenderness, and to give
me a mortal blow by embroiling me with mademoiselle her
daughter. To do this effectually he found a rival, who, he
hoped, would please her better, namely, M. d'Aumale, hand-
some as Apollo, and one who was very likely to suit the temper
of Mademoiselle de Chevreuse. He had entirely devoted him-
self to the cardinal's interest, looked upon himself as very much
honored by this commission, and haunted the palace of Che-
vreuse so diligently that I did not doubt but that he was sent
thither to act the second part of the comedy which had mis-
carried so shamefully in the hands of M. de Candale. I watched
all his movements, and complained to Mademoiselle de Che-
vreuse, but she gave me indirect answers. I began to be out
of humor, and was soon appeased. I grew peevish again ; and
Mademoiselle de Chevreuse saying in his presence, to please
me and to sting him, that she could not imagine how it was
possible to bear a silly fellow, " Pardon me, mademoiselle,"
replied I, " we suffer fops sometimes very patiently for the sake
of their extravagances." This man was notoriously foppish
and extravagant. My answer pleased, and we soon got rid of
him at the palace of Chevreuse. But he thought to have de-
spatched me, for he hired one Grandmaison, a ruffian, to assas-
sinate me, who apprised me of his design. The first time I met
M. d'Aumale, which was at the Due d'Orleans's house, I did
not fail to let him know it ; but I told it him in a whisper, saying
that I had too much respect for the house of Savoy to publish
it to the world. He denied the fact, but in such a manner as
to make it more evident, because he conjured me to keep it
secret. I gave him my word, and I kept it.

Madame de Guemenee, with whom I had several quarrels,
proposed to the Queen likewise to despatch me, by shutting
me up in a greenhouse in her garden, which she might easily

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN 165

have done, because I often went to her alone by night; but
the cardinal, fearing that the people would have suspected him
as the author of my sudden disappearance, would not enter
into the project, so it was dropped.

To return to our negotiations for the freedom of the princes.
The Due d'Orleans was with much difficulty induced to sign
the treaty by which a marriage was stipulated between Made-
moiselle de Chevreuse and the Prince de Conti, and to promise
not to oppose my promotion to the dignity of a cardinal. The
princes were as active in the whole course of these negotia-
tions as if they had been at liberty. We wrote to them, and
they to us, and a regular correspondence between Paris and
Lyons was never better established than ours. Bar,^ their
warder, was a very shallow fellow ; besides, men of sense are
sometimes outwitted.

Cardinal Mazarin, upon his return with the King from
Guienne, was greatly pleased with the acclamations of the mob,
but he soon grew weary of them, for the Frondeurs still kept
the wall.

The cardinal being continually provoked at Paris by the
Abbe Fouquet, who sought to make himself necessary, and
being so vain as to think himself qualified to command an army,
marched abruptly out of Paris for Champagne, with a design
to retake Rhetel and Chateau-Portien, of which the enemy
were possessed, and where M. de Turenne proposed to winter.

On the feast of Saint Martin, the first president and the
Attorney-General Talon exhorted the Parliament to be peace-
able, that the enemies of the State might have no advantage. A
petition was read from Madame la Princesse, desiring that the
princes should be brought to the Louvre and remain in the
custody of one of the King's officers, and that the solicitor-
general be sent for to say what he had to allege against their
innocence, and that in case he should have nothing solid to
offer they be set at liberty.

The Chambers, being assembled on the seventh of Decem-
ber, to take the affair into consideration. Talon, the attorney-
general, informed the House that the Queen had sent for the
Kine's council, and ordered them to let the Parliament know

» Bar was, according to M. Joy, an and who, on this account, was often
unsociable man, who was for raising the dupe of Montreuil, secretary to the
his fortune by using the princes badly, Prince de Conti.

1 66 RETZ

that it was her pleasure that the House should not take any
cognizance of the Princess's petition, because everything that
had relation to the confinement of the princes belonged to the
royal authority. Talon made a motion that the Parliament
should depute some members to carry the petition to the
Queen, and to beseech her Majesty to take it into her consid-
eration. At the same time another petition was presented from
Mademoiselle de Longueville, for the liberty of the duke her
father, and that she might have leave to stay in Paris to solicit it.

No sooner was this petition read than a letter from the three
princes was presented and read, praying that they might be
brought to trial or set at liberty.

On the ninth day of the month an order was brought to the
Parliament from the King, commanding the House to suspend
all deliberations on this subject till they had first sent their
deputies to court to know his Majesty's pleasure.

Deputies were sent immediately, to whom, accordingly, the
Queen gave audience in bed, telling them that she was very
much indisposed. The keeper of the seals added that it was the
King's pleasure that the Parliament should not meet at all
until such time as the Queen his mother had recovered her
health.

On the tenth the House resolved to adjourn only to the four-
teenth, and on that day a general procession was proposed to
the archbishop by the dean of Parliament, to beg that God
would inspire them with such counsels only as might be for
the good of the public.

On the fourteenth they received the King's letter, forbid-
ding their debates, and informing them that the Queen would
satisfy them very speedily about the aflfair of the princes ; but
this letter was disregarded. They sent a deputation to invite
the Due d'Orleans to come to the House, but, after consulting
with the Queen, he told the deputies that he did not care to go,
that the assembly was too noisy, that he could not divine what
they would be at, that the affairs in debate were never known
to fall under their cognizance, and that they had nothing else
to do but to refer the said petitions to the Queen.

On the eighteenth news came that Marechal du Plessis had
gained a signal victory over M. de Turenne. who was coming
to succor Rhetel, but found it already surrendered to Mare-

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN 167

chal du Plessis ; and the Spanish garrison, endeavoring to re-
treat, was forced to an engagement on the plains of Saumepuis ;
that about 2,000 men were killed upon the spot, among the rest
a brother of the Elector Palatine, and six colonels, and that
there were nearly 4,000 prisoners, the most considerable of
whom were several persons of note, and all the colonels, be-
side twenty colors and eighty-four standards. You may easily
guess at the consternation of the princes' party; my house
was all night filled with the lamentations of despairing mourn-
ers, and I found the Due d'Orleans, as it were, struck dumb.

On the nineteenth, as I went to the Parliament House, the
people looked melancholy, dejected, and frightened out of their
wits. The members were afraid to open their mouths, and
nobody would mention the name of Mazarin except Menar-
deau Champre, who spoke of him with encomiums, by giving
him the honor of the victory of Rhetel, and then he moved
the House to entreat the Queen to put the princes into the
hands of that good and wise minister, who would be as careful
of them as he had been hitherto of the State. I wondered
most of all that this man was not hissed in the House, and espe-
cially as he passed through the great hall. This circumstance,
together with what I saw that afternoon in every street, con-
vinced me how much our friends were dispirited, and I there-
fore resolved next day to raise their courage. I knew the first
president to be purblind, and such men greedily swallow every
new fact which confirms them in their first impression. I knew
likewise the cardinal to be a man that supposed everybody had
a back door. The only way of dealing with men of that stamp
is to make them believe that you design to deceive those whom
you earnestly endeavor to serve.

For this reason, on the twentieth, I declaimed against the
disorders of the State, and showed that it having pleased Al-
mighty God to bless his Majesty's arms and to remove the
public enemy from our frontiers by the victory gained over
them by Marechal du Plessis, we ought now to apply our-
selves seriously to the healing of internal wounds of the State,
which are the more dangerous because they are less obvious.
To this I thought fit to add that I was obliged to mention the
general oppression of the subjects at a time when we had
nothing more to fear from the lately routed Spaniards ; that,

1 68 RETZ

as one of the props of the public safety was the preservation
of the royal family, I could not without the utmost concern
see the princes breathe the unwholesome air of Havre-de-
Grace, and that I was of opinion that the House should hum-
bly entreat the King to remove them, at least to some place
more healthy. At this speech everybody regained their cour-
age and concluded that all was not yet lost. It was observed
that the people's countenances were altered. Those in the
great hall resumed their former zeal, made the usual acclama-
tions as we went out, and I had that day three hundred car-
riages of visitors.

On the twenty-second the debate was continued, and it was
more and more observed that the Parliament did not follow
the triumphant chariot of Cardinal Mazarin, whose imprudence
in hazarding the fate of the whole kingdom in the last battle
was set off with all the disadvantages that could be invented
to tarnish the victory.

The thirtieth crowned the work, and produced a decree for
making most humble remonstrances to the Queen for the lib-
erty of the princes and for Mademoiselle de Longueville stay-
ing in Paris.

It was further resolved to send a deputation to the Due d'Or-
leans, to desire his Royal Highness to use his interest on this
occasion in favor of the said princes.

The King's council having waited on her Majesty with the
remonstrances aforesaid, she pretended to be under medical
treatment, and put ofif the matter a week longer. The Due
d'Orleans also gave an ambiguous answer. The Queen's
course of treatment continued eight or ten days longer than
she imagined, or, rather, than she said, and consequently the
remonstrances of the Parliament were not made till January
20, 165 1.

On the twenty-eighth the first president made his report,
and said the Queen had promised to return an answer in a few
days.

It happened very luckily for us at this time that the impru-
dence of the cardinal was greater than the inconstancy of the
Due d'Orleans, for a little before the Queen returned an an-
swer to the remonstrances, he talked very roughly to the duke
in the Queen's presence, charging him with putting too much

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN 169

confidence in me. The very day that the Queen made the
aforesaid answer he spoke yet more arrogantly to the duke
in her Majesty's apartment, comparing M. de Beaufort and
myself to Cromwell and Fairfax in the House of Commons in
England, and exclaimed furiously in the King's presence, so
that he frightened the duke, who was glad he got out of the
King's palace with a whole skin, and who said that he would
never put himself again in the power of that furious woman,
meaning the Queen, because she had improved on what the
cardinal had said to the King. I resolved to strike the iron
while it was hot, and joined with M. de Beaufort to persuade
his Royal Highness to declare himself the next day in Par-
liament. We showed him that, after what had lately passed,
there was no safety for his person, and if the King should go
out of Paris, as the cardinal designed, we should be engaged in
a civil war, whereof he alone, with the city of Paris, must
bear the heavy load ; that it would be equally scandalous and
dangerous for his Royal Highness either to leave the princes
in chains, after having treated with them, or, by his dilatory
proceedings, suffer Mazarin to have all the honor of setting
them at liberty, and that he ought by all means to go to the
Parliament House.

The duchess, too, seconded us, and upon his Highness say-
ing that if he went to the House to declare against the court the
cardinal would be sure to take his Majesty out of Paris, the
duchess replied, " What, monsieur, are you not lieutenant-
general of France? Do not you command the army? Are
you not master of the people? I myself will undertake that
the King shall not go out of Paris." The duke nevertheless re-
mained inflexible, and all we could get out of him was that he
would consent to my telling the Parliament, in his name, what
we desired he should say himself. In a word, he would have
me make the experiment, the success of which he looked upon
to be very uncertain, because he thought the Parliament would
have nothing to say against the Queen's answer, and that if
I succeeded he should reap the honor of the proposition. I
readily accepted the commission, because all was at stake, and
if I had not executed it the next morning I am sure the cardinal
would have eluded setting the princes at liberty a great while
longer, and the affair have ended in a negotiation with them

170 RETZ

against the duke. The duchess, who saw that I exposed my-
self for the public good, pitied me very much. She did all she
could to persuade the duke to command me to mention to the
Parliament what the cardinal had told the King with relation
to Cromwell, Fairfax, and the English Parliament, which, if
declared in the duke's name, she thought would excite the
House the more against Mazarin ; and she was certainly in
the right. But he forbade me expressly.

I ran about all night to incite the members at their first
meeting to murmur at the Queen's answer, which in the main
was very plausible, importing that, though this afifair did not
fall within the cognizance of Parliament, the Queen would,
however, out of her abundant goodness, have regard to their
supplications and restore the princes to liberty. Besides, it
promised a general amnesty to all who had borne arms in their
favor, on condition only that M. de Turenne should lay down
his arms, that Madame de Longueville should renounce her
ti eaty with Spain, and that Stenai and Murzon should be evacu-
ated.

At first the Parliament seemed to be dazzled with it, but
next day, February ist, the whole House was undeceived, and
wondered how it had been so deluded. The Court of Inquests
began to murmur ; Viole stood up and said that the Queen's
answer was but a snare laid for the Parliament to beguile them ;
that March 12th, the time fixed for the King's coronation, was
just at hand ; and that as soon as the court was out of Paris they
would laugh at the Parliament. At this discourse the old and
new Fronde stood up, and when I saw they were greatly ex-
cited, I waved my cap and said that the duke had commanded
me to inform the House that the regard he had for their senti-
ments having confirmed him in those he always naturally enter-
tained of his cousins, he was resolved to concur with them for
procuring their liberty, and to contribute everything in his
power to efifect it ; and it is incredible what influence these
few words had upon the whole assembly. I was astonished at
it myself. The wisest senators seemed as mad as the common
people, and the people madder than ever. Their acclamations
exceeded anything you can imagine, and, indeed, nothing less
was suflficient to give heart to the duke, who had all night been
bringing forth new projects with more sorrowful pangs and

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN 171

throes (as the duchess expressed it) than ever she had felt
when in labor with all her children.

When he was fully informed of the good success of his
declaration, he embraced me several times before all the com-
pany, and M. Tellier going to wait upon him from the Queen,
to know if he acknowledged what I had said in his name in the
House, " Yes," replied he, " I own, and always will own, all
that he shall say or act in my name." We thought that after a
solemn declaration of this nature the duke would not scruple to
take all the necessary precautions to prevent the cardinal car-
rying away the King, and to that end the duchess did pro-
pose to have all the gates of the city well guarded, under
pretence of some popular tumults. But he was deaf to all
she said, pretending that he was loath to make his King a
prisoner.

On February 2, 1651, the duke, urged very importunately by
the princes' party informing him that their liberty depended
on it, told them that he was going to perform an action which
would remove all their diffidence. He sent immediately for the
keeper of the seals, Marechal Villeroi, and Tellier, and bade
them tell the Queen that he would never come to the Palais
Royal as long as Mazarin was there, and that he could no
longer treat with a man that ruined the State. And, then,
turning toward Marechal Villeroi, " I charge you," said he,
" with the King's person ; you shall be answerable for him to
me." I was sadly afraid this would be a means to hasten the
King's departure, which was what we dreaded most of all, and
I wondered that the cardinal did not remove after such a
declaration. I thought his head was turned, and indeed I was
told that he was beside himself for a fortnight together.

The duke having openly declared against Mazarin, and being
resolved to attack and drive him out of the kingdom, bade me
inform the House next day, in his name, how the cardinal had
compared their body to the Rump Parliament in England, and
some of their members to Cromwell and Fairfax. I improved
upon this as much as possible, and I dare say that so much heat
and ferment was never seen in any society before. Some were
for sending the cardinal a personal summons to appear on the
spot, to give an account of his administration; but the most
moderate were for making most humble remonstrances to the

172

RETZ

Queen for his removal. You may easily guess what a thun-
derclap this must have been to the court. The Queen asked
the duke whether she might bring the cardinal to his Royal
Highness. His answer was that he did not think it good for
the safety of his own person. She offered to come alone to
confer with his Highness at the Palais d'Orleans, but he ex-
cused himself with a great deal of respect.

He sent orders an hour after to the marshals of France to
obey him only, as lieutenant-general of the State, and likewise
to the prcvots dcs marchands not to take up arms except by his
authority. You will wonder, without doubt, that after all this
noise no care was taken of the gates of Paris to prevent the
King's departure. The duchess, who trembled at the thoughts
of it, daily redoubled her endeavors to induce the duke to se-
cure the gates of the city, but all to no purpose ; for weak minds
are generally deficient in some respect or other.

On the fourth the duke came to the Parliament and assured
the assembly of his concurrence in everything to reform
the State and to procure the liberty of the princes and the car-
dinal's removal. As soon as his Royal Highness had done
speaking, the master of the ceremonies was admitted with a
letter from the King, which was read, and which required the
House to separate, and to send as many deputies as they could
to the Palais Royal to hear the King's will and pleasure. Depu-
ties were accordingly sent immediately, for whose return the
bulk of the members stayed in the great chamber. I was in-
formed that this was one trick among others concerted to ruin
me, and, telling the Due d'Orleans of it, he said that if the old
buffoon, the keeper of the seals, was concerned in such a com-
plication of folly and knavery, he deserved to be hanged by the
side of Mazarin. But the sequel showed that I was not out in
my information.

As soon as the deputies were come to the Palais Royal, the
first president told the Queen that the Parliament was ex-
tremely concerned that the princes were still confined, not-
withstanding her royal promise for setting them at liberty.
The Queen replied that Marechal de Grammont was sent to
release them and to see to their necessary security for the public
tranquillity, but that she had sent for them in relation to
another affair, which the keeper of the seals would explain to

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN 173

them, and which he couched in a sanguinary manifesto, in sub-
stance as follows :

" All the reports made by the coadjutor in Parliament are
false, and invented by him. He lies ! " (This is the only word
the Queen added to what was already written.) " He is a very
wicked, dangerous man, and gives the duke very pernicious
advice ; he wants to ruin the State because we have refused to
make him cardinal, and has publicly boasted that he will set fire
to the four corners of the kingdom, and that he will have
100,000 men in readiness to dash out the brains of those that
shall attempt to put it out." These expressions were very
harsh, and I am sure that I never said anything like that ; but
it was of no use at this time to make the cloud which was
gathering over the head of Mazarin fall in a storm upon mine.
The court saw that Parliament was assembled to pass a decree
for setting the princes at liberty, and that the duke in person
was declaring against Mazarin in the grand chamber, and there-
fore they believed that a diversion would be as practicable as it
was necessary, namely, to bring me upon my trial in such a
manner that the Parliament could not refuse nor secure me
from the railleries of the most inconsiderable member. Every-
thing that tended to render the attack plausible was made use
of, as well as everything that might weaken my defence. The
writing was signed by the four secretaries of state, and, the
better to defeat all that I could say in my justification, the
Comte de Brienne was sent at the heels of the deputies with
an order to desire the Due d'Orleans to come to a conference
with the Queen in relation to some few diflficulties that re-
mained concerning the liberty of the princes.

When the deputies had returned to Parliament, the first
president began with reading the paper which had been de-
livered to him against me, upon which you might have read
astonishment in every face. Menardeau, who was to open the
trenches against me, was afraid of a salvo from the great hall,
where he found such a crowd of people, and heard so many
acclamations to the Fronde, and so many imprecations against
Mazarin, that he durst not open his mouth against me, but con-
tented himself with a pathetic lamentation of the division that
was in the State, and especially in the royal family. The coun-
cillors were so divided that some of them were for appointing

174 RETZ

public prayers for two days ; others proposed to desire his Royal
Highness to take care of the public safety. I resolved to treat
the writing drawn up against me by the cardinal as a satire
and a libel, and, by some ingenious, short passage, to arouse
the minds of my hearers. As my memory did not furnish me
with anything in ancient authors that had any relation to my
subject, I made a small discourse in the best Latin I was capa-
ble of, and then spoke thus :

" Were it not for the profound respect I bear to the persons
who have spoken before me, I could not forbear complaining
of their not crying out against such a scurrilous, satirical paper,
which was just now read, contrary to all forms of proceeding,
and written in the same style as lately profaned the sacred
name of the King, to encourage false witnesses by letters-
patent. I believe that those persons thought this paper, which
is but a sally of the furious Mazarin, to be much beneath them-
selves and me. And that I may conform my opinion to theirs,
I will answer only by repeating a passage from an ancient
author : ' In the worst of times I did not forsake the city, in
the most prosperous I had no particular views, and in the most
desperate times of all I feared nothing.' I desire to be excused
for running into this digression. I move that you would make
humble remonstrances to the King, to desire him to despatch
an order immediately for setting the princes at liberty, to make
a declaration in their favor, and to remove Cardinal Mazarin
from his person and councils."

My opinion was applauded both by the Frondeurs and the
prince's party, and carried almost nemine contradicente.

Talon, the attorney-general, did wonders. I never heard or
read anything more eloquent or nervous. He invoked the
names of Henri the Great, and upon his knees recommended
the kingdom of France in general to the protection of Saint
Louis.

Brienne, who had been sent by the Queen to desire an inter-
view with the Due d'Orleans, was dismissed with no other
answer than that the duke would come to pay his humble duty
to the Queen as soon as the princes were at liberty, and Car-
dinal Mazarin removed from the King's person and councils.

On the fifth of February there was an assembly of the nobil-
ity at Nemours for recovering their privileges. I opposed it

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN 175

to the utmost of my power, for I had experienced more than
once that nothing can be more pernicious to a party than to
engage without any necessity in such affairs as have the bare
appearance of faction, but I was obhged to comply. This
assembly, however, was so terrifying to the court that six
companies of the guards were ordered to mount, with which
the Due d'Orleans was so ofifended that he sent word to the
officers, in his capacity of lieutenant-general of the State, to
receive no orders but from himself. They answered very re-
spectfully, but as men devoted to the Queen's interest.

On the sixth, the duke having taken his place in the Parlia-
ment, the King's council acquainted the House that, having
been sent to wait on her Majesty with the remonstrances, her
Majesty's answer was that no person living wished more for
the liberty of the princes than herself, but that it was reason-
able at the same time to consult the safety of the State ; that as
for Cardinal Mazarin, she was resolved to retain him in her
council as long as she found his assistance necessary for the
King's service ; and that it did not belong to the Parliament to
concern themselves with any of her ministers.

The first president was shrewdly attacked in the House for
not being more resolute in speaking to the Queen. Some were
for sending him back to demand another audience in the after-
noon ; and the Due d'Orleans having said that the marshals of
France were dependent on Mazarin, it was resolved immedi-
ately that they should obey none but his Royal Highness.

I was informed that very evening that the cardinal had
made his escape out of Paris in disguise, and that the court
was in a very great consternation.

The cardinal's escape was the common topic of conversation,
and different reasons were assigned to it, according to the
various interests of dififerent parties. As for my part, I am
very well persuaded that fear was the only reason of his flight,
and that nothing else hindered him from taking the King and
Queen along with him. You will see in the sequel of this his-
tory that he endeavored to get their Majesties out of Paris
soon after he had made his escape, and that it was concerted in
all probability before he left the court ; but I could never
understand why he did not put it into execution at a time when
he had no reason to fear the least opposition.

176 RETZ

On the seventeenth the Parliament ordered the thanks of the
House to be returned to the Oueen for removincf the cardinal,
and that she should be humbly asked to issue an order for set-
ting the princes at liberty and a declaration for excluding all
foreigners forever from the King's council. The first president
being deputed with the message, the Queen told him that she
could return him no answer till she had conferred with the
Due d'Orleans, to whom she immediately deputed the keeper
of the seals, Marechal Villeroi, and Tellier ; but he told them
that he could not go to the Palais Royal till the princes were
set at liberty and the cardinal removed farther from the court.
For he observed to the House that the cardinal was no farther
ofT than at Saint Germain, where he governed all the kingdom
as before, that his nephew and his nieces were yet at court ; and
the duke proposed that the Parliament should humbly beseech
the Queen to explain whether the cardinal's removal was for
good and all. If I had not seen it, I could not have imagined
what a heat the House was in that day. Some were for an
order that there should be no favorites in France for the future.
They became at length of the opinion of his Royal Highness,
namely, to address the Queen to ask her to explain herself
with relation to the removal of Cardinal Mazarin and to solicit
orders for the liberty of the princes.

On the same day the Queen sent again to desire the Due
d'Orleans to come and take his place in the council, and to tell
him that, in case he did not think it convenient, she would send
the keeper of the seals to concert necessary measures with
him for setting the princes at liberty. His Royal Highness
accepted the second, but rejected the first proposal, and treated
M. d'Elbeuf roughly, because he was very pressing with his
Royal Highness to go to the King's palace. The messengers
likewise acquainted the duke that they were ordered to assure
him that the removal of the cardinal was forever. You will see
presently that, in all probability, had his Royal Highness gone
that day to court, the Queen would have left Paris and carried
the duke along with her.

On the nineteenth the Parliament decreed that, in pursuance
of the Queen's declaration, the cardinal should, within the
space of fifteen days, depart from his Majesty's dominions, with
all his relations and foreign servants; otherwise, they should

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN

177

be proceeded against as outlaws, and it should be lawful for
anybody to despatch them out of the way.

I suspected that the King would leave Paris that very day,
arid I was almost asleep when I was sent for to go to the Due
d'Orleans, whom Mademoiselle de Chevreuse went to awaken
in the meantime; and, while I was dressing, one of her pages
brought me a note from her, containing only these few words :
" Make haste to Luxembourg, and be upon your guard on the
way." I found Mademoiselle de Chevreuse in his chamber,
who acquainted me that the King was out of bed, and had his
boots on ready for a journey from Paris,

I waited on the duke, and said, " There is but one remedy,
which is, to secure the gates of Paris." Yet all that we could
obtain of him was to send the captain of the Swiss Guards to
wait on the Queen and desire her Majesty to weigh the conse-
quences of an action of that nature. His duchess, perceiving
that this expedient, if not supported effectually, would ruin all,
and that his Royal Highness was still as irresolute as ever,
called for pen and ink that lay upon the table in her cabinet, and
wrote these words on a large sheet of paper :

M. Ic Coadjuteur is ordered to take arms to hinder the adherents of

Cardinal Mazarin, condemned by the Parliament, from carrying the King

out of Paris.

Marguerite de Lorraine.

Des Touches, who found the Queen bathed in tears, was
charged by her Majesty to assure the Due d'Orleans that she
never thought of carrying away the King, and that it was one
of my tricks.

The Due d'Orleans saying at the House next day that orders
for the princes' liberty would be despatched in two hours' time,
the first president said, with a deep sigh, " The Prince de
Conde is at liberty, but our King, our sovereign Lord and King,
is a prisoner." The Due d'Orleans, being now not near so
timorous as before, because he had received more acclamations
in the streets than ever, replied, " Truly the King has been
Mazarin's prisoner, but, God be praised, he is now in better
hands."

The cardinal, who hovered about Paris till he heard the city
had taken up arms, posted to Havre-de-Grace, where he fawned
12

178 RETZ

upon the Prince de Conde with a meanness of spirit that is
hardly to be imagined ; for he wept, and even fell down on his
knees to the prince, who treated him with the utmost con-
tempt, giving him no thanks for his release.

On the sixteenth of February the princes, being set at liberty,
arrived in Paris, and, after waiting on the Queen, supped with
M. de Beaufort and myself at the Due d'Orleans's house, where
we drank the King's health and " No Mazarin ! "

On the seventeenth his Royal Highness carried them to the
Parliament House, and it is remarkable that the same people
who but thirteen months before made bonfires for their confine-
ment did the same now for their release.

On the twentieth the declaration demanded of the King
against the cardinal, being brought to be registered in Parlia-
ment, was sent back with indignation because the reason of
his removal was colored over with so many encomiums that it
was a perfect panegyric. Honest Broussel, who always went
greater lengths than anybody, was for excluding all cardinals
from the Ministry, as well as foreigners in general, because
they swear allegiance to the Pope. The first president, think-
ing to mortify me, lauded Broussel for a man of admirable
good sense, and espoused his opinion ; and the Prince de Conde,
too, seemed to be overjoyed, saying, " It is a charming echo."
Indeed, I might well be troubled to think that the very day
after a treaty wherein the Due d'Orleans declared that he was
resolved to make me a cardinal, the prince should second a
proposition so derogatory to that dignity. But the truth is, the
prince had no hand in it, for it came naturally, and was sup-
ported for no other reason but because nothing that was
brought as an argument against Mazarin could then fail of
being approved at the same time. I had some reason to think
that the motion was concerted beforehand by my enemies, to
keep me out of the ministry. Nevertheless, I was not offended
with the Parliament, the bulk of whom I knew to be my friends,
whose sole aim was to effectually demolish Mazarin, and I
acquiesced in the solid satisfaction which I had in being con-
sidered in the world as the expeller of Mazarin, whom every-
body hated, and the deliverer of the princes, who were as much
their darlings.

The continual chicanery of the court provoked the Parlia-

THE ECLIPSE OF MAZARIN 179

ment of Paris to write to all the parliaments of France to issue
decrees against Cardinal Mazarin, which they did accordingly.
The Parliament obliged the court to issue a declaration setting
forth the innocence of the princes, and another for the exclu-
sion of cardinals — French as well as foreigners — from the
King's council, and the Parliament had no rest till the cardinal
retired from Sedan to Breule, a house belonging to the Elector
of Cologne.

TRIUMPH OF
MADAME DE MAINTENON

arqui^c tic pitxntt^^an

FRANgOISE ATHfiNAIS, MARQUISE DE MONTESPAN

1641 — 1707

Frangoise Ath^nais de Rochechouart de Mortimart, Marquise de Mon-
tespan, was the second daughter of the first Duke of Rochechouart. She
was born in 1641 and died in 1707. Educated at a convent, she appeared
in society first under the name of Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, the
name of the chateau where she was born. Beautiful, witty, and fascinat-
ing in conversation, she was soon chosen one of the ladies in waiting of
the court of Versailles, where she became a companion of Mademoiselle
de Valliere, who occupied the same position, and was mistress before her
of Louis XIV. She married the Marquis de Monti-span in 1663, by whom
she had a son. It was the Queen who was first so fascinated by the charm
of her manner that she called the marquise to be her companion. In
1668 the monarch openly recognized both her and Mademoiselle de Valliere
as mistresses, and his Queen seemed not the less fond of th( m. Montes-
pan, who was by far the most powerful and ambitious of the two, main-
tained for ten years a strange control in state afTairs, and retained the
joint affections of King and Queen ; often appearing on state occasions in
the carriage with the latter. She was admitted by all to be the most
beautiful lady of the court. An abundance of fair blonde hair, expressive
blue eyes, dark eyebrows, a complexion of exquisite delicacy, a form full
and graceful, and " an air that lighted the spot where she appeared," were
among the inventory of her personal attractions. Her humors as she
acquired power became violent and changeable, and htr influence de-
clined.

During the ninth year of Montespan's power, Madame de Maintenon,
who was in the service of Montespan as governess of her son, and whose
more gentle temper pleased the King, began to supplant her, so that in
1679 the King no longer was under her influence. She retained her place
at court till 1691. In 1700 she met the King for the last time at court,
and soon afterward followed the fashion of the time and became a religious
devotee ; but not until she had written a tender letter to her husband,
begging him to allow her to return to him, and had been refused. By
the King she had two sons, the Due du Maine and the Comte de Vexin ;
three daughters, who lived to marry men of title ; and two that died
infants.

Madame de Montespan's " Memoirs," written by herself, are as brilliant
as they are ingenuous, though they were avowedly compiled in a desultory
way, and the writer keeps herself generally in the background while giving
a faithful picture of the brilliant court of Louis XIV during the brightest
period of that memorable reign.

182

TRIUMPH OF MADAME DE MAINTENON

WHEN Madame de la Valliere (led by suggestions com-
ing from the Most High) left the court and the world
to shut herself up in a cloister, she committed a
great imprudence ; I should not know how to repeat it. The
Carmelites in the Rue Saint Jacques could easily do without
her; her two poor little children could not. The King con-
fided them, I am well aware, to governors and governesses
who were prudent, attentive, and capable ; but all the governors
and preceptors in the world will never replace a mother —
above all, in a place of dissipation, tumult, and carelessness
like the court.

M. le Comte de Vermandois was only seven years old when
exaggerated scruples and bad advice deprived him of his
mother. This amiable child, who loved her, at first suffered
much from her absence and departure. He had to be taken
to the Carmelites, where the sad metamorphosis of his mother,
whom he had seen so brilliant and alluring, made him start
back in fright.

He loved her always as much as he was loved by her, and
in virtue of the permission formally given by the Pope, he
went every week to pass an hour or two with her in the parlor.
He regularly took there his singing and flute lessons ; these
were two amiable talents in which he excelled.

About his twelfth year he was taken with the measles, and
passed through them fairly well. The small-pox came after-
ward, but respected his charming brown face. A severe shower
of rain, which caught him in some forest, made him take rheu-
matism ; the waters of Vichy cured him ; he returned beaming
with health and grace.

The King loved him tenderly, and everybody at court shared
this predilection of the monarch. M. de Vermandois, of a

183

i84 MONTESPAN

stature less than his father, was none the less one of the hand-
somest cavaliers at the court. To all the graces of his amiable
mother he joined an ease of manner, a mixture of nobility
and modesty, which made him noticeable in the midst of the
most handsome and well made. I loved him with a mother's
fondness, and, from all his ingenuous and gallant caresses, it
was easy to see that he made me a sincere return.

This poor Comte de Vermandois, about a year before the
death of the Queen, had a great and famous dispute with
Monsieur le Dauphin, a jealous prince, which brought him
his first troubles, and deprived him suddenly of the protecting
favor of the Infanta-queen.

At a ball, at the Duchesse de Villeroi's, all the princes of
the blood appeared. Monseigneur, who from childhood had
had a fancy for Mademoiselle de Blois, his legitimized sister,
loved her far more definitely since her marriage with M. le
Prince de Conti. Monseigneur is lacking in tact. At this
ball he thought he could parade his sentiments, which were
visibly unpleasant, both to the young husband and to the
princess herself. He danced, nevertheless, for some minutes
with her; but, suddenly, she feigned to be seized with a sharp
pain in the spleen, and was conducted to a sofa. The young
Comte de Vermandois came and sat there near her. They
were both exhibiting signs of gayety ; their chatter amused
them, and they were seen to laugh with great freedom. Al-
though Monsieur le Dauphin was assuredly not in their
thoughts, he thought they were making merry at his expense.
He came and sat at the right of the princess and said to her :

" Your brother is very ill-bred ! "

" Do you think so ? " the princess answered immediately.
" My brother is the most amiable boy in the world. He is
laughing at my talking to myself. He assures me that my
pain is in my knee instead of being in the spleen, and that is
what we were amusing ourselves at, quite innocently."

" Your brother thinks himself my equal," added the prince ;
" in which he certainly makes a mistake. All his diamonds
prove nothing; I shall have, when I like, those of the Crown."

" So much the worse, monsieur," replied the Comte de
Vermandois, quickly. " Those diamonds should never change
hands — at least, for a very long time."

TRIUMPH OF MADAME DE MAINTENON 185

These words degenerating into an actual provocation, Mon-
seigneur dared to say to his young brother that, were it not
for his affection for the princess, he would make him feel
that he was

" My elder brother," resumed the Comte de Vermandois,
" and nothing more, I assure you."

Before the ball was over, they met in an alcove and gave each
other a rendezvous not far from Marly. Both of them were
punctual; but Monsieur le Dauphin had given his orders, so
that they were followed in order to be separated.

The King was informed of this adventure ; he immediately
gave expression to his extreme dissatisfaction, and said :

" What ! is there hatred and discord already among my
children ? "

I spoke next to elucidate the facts, for I had learned every-
thing, and I represented M. de Vermandois as unjustly pro-
voked by his brother. His Majesty replied that Monsieur
le Dauphin was the second personage in the empire, and
that all his brothers owed him respect up to a certain point.

" It was out of deference and respect that the count accepted
the challenge," said I to the King ; " and here the offending
party made the double attack."

" What a misfortune ! " resumed the King. " I thought
them as united among themselves as they are in my heart.
Vermandois is quick, and as explosive as saltpetre ; but he
has the best nature in the world. I will reconcile them; they
will obey me."

The scene took place in my apartment, owing to my Due
du Maine. " My son," said his Majesty to the child of the
Carmelite, " I have learned with pain what has passed at
Madame de Villeroi's and then in the Bois de Marly. You will
be pardoned for this imprudence because of your age ; but
never forget that Monsieur le Dauphin is your superior in
every respect, and must succeed me some day."

" Sire," replied the count, '* I have never offended nor wished
to offend Monseigneur. Unhappily for me, he detests me,
as though you had not the right to love me."

At these words Monsieur le Dauphin blushed, and the King
hastened to declare that he loved all his children with a kind-
ness perfectly alike ; that rank and distinctions of honor had

i86 MONTESPAN

been regulated, many centuries ago, by the supreme law of
the State ; that he desired union and concord in the heart of
the royal family ; and he commanded the two brothers to
sacrifice for him all their petty grievances, and to embrace in
his presence.

Hearing these words, the Comte de Vermandois, with a
bow to his father, ran in front of Monseigneur, and, spreading
out his arms, would have embraced him. Monsieur le Dauphin
remained cold and dumb ; he received this mark of good-will
vi^ithout returning it, and very obviously displeased his father
thereby.

These little family events were hushed up, and Monseigneur
was almost explicitly forbidden to entertain any other senti-
ments for Madame de Conti than those of due friendship and
esteem.

Some time after that, Messieurs de Conti, great lovers of
festivity, pleasure, and costly delights, which are suited only
for people of their kind, dragged the Comte de Verman-
dois, as a young debutant, into one of those licentious parties
w^here a young man is compelled to see things which excite
horror.

His first scruples overcome, M. de Vermandois, naturally
disposed to what is out of the common, wished to give guaran-
tees of his loyalty and courage ; from a simple spectator he
became, it is said, an accomplice.

There is always some false friend in these forbidden assem-
blies. The King heard the details of an orgy so unpardonable,
and the precocious misconduct of his cherished son gave him
so much pain, that I saw his tears fall. The assistant governor
of the young criminal was dismissed ; his I'alct de chamhre
was sent to prison ; only three of his servants were retained,
and he himself was subjected to a state of penitence which
included general confessions and the most severe discipline.
He resigned himself sincerely to all these heavy punishments.
He promised to associate only with his mother, his new gov-
ernor, his English horses, and his books ; and this manner of
life, carried out with a grandeur of soul, made of him in a few
months a perfect gentleman, in the honorable and assured
position to which his great heart destined him.

The King, satisfied with this trial, allowed him to go and

TRIUMPH OF MADAME DE MAINTENON 187

prove his valor at the sieges of Dixmude and Courtrai. All
the stafif officers recognized soon in his conversation, his zeal,
his methods, a worthy rival of the Vendomes. They wrote
charming things of him to the court. A few days afterward
we learned at Versailles that M. de Vermandois was dead,
in consequence of an indisposition caught while bivouacking,
which at first had not seemed dangerous.

The King deplored this loss, as a statesman and a good
father. I was a witness of his al^iction ; it seemed to me
extreme. One knew not whom to approach to break the
news to the poor Carmelite. The Bishop of Meaux, sturdy
personage, voluntarily undertook the mission, and went to it
with a tranquil brow, for he loved such tasks.

To his hoarse and funereal voice Soeur Louise only replied
with groans and tears. She fell upon the floor without con-
sciousness, and M. Bossuet went on obstinately preaching
Christian resignation and stoicism to a senseless mother who
heard him not.

About a fortnight after the obsequies of the prince (which
I, too, had celebrated in my Church of Saint Joseph), the
under-prioress of that little community begged me to come to
Paris for a brief time and consecrate half an hour to her. I
responded to her invitation. This is the important secret which
the good nun had to confide to me : Before expiring, the
young prince had found time to interview his faithful valet de
chamhrc behind his curtains. " After my death," said he, " you
will repair, not to the King my father, but to Madame la Mar-
quise de Montespan, who has given me a thousand proofs of
kindness in my behalf. You will remit to her my casket, in
which all my private papers are kept. She will be kind enough
to destroy all which ought not to survive me, and to hand
over the remainder, not to my good mother, who will have
only too much sorrow, but to Madame la Princesse de Conti,
whose indulgence and kindness are known to me."

Sydney, this valet de chamhrc, informed me that the count
was dead, not through excessive brandy, as the Dauphin's peo-
ple spread abroad, but from a cerebral fever, which a copious
bleeding would have dissipated at once. All the soldiers wept
for this young prince, whose generous affability had charmed
them. Sydney had just accompanied his body to Arras, where,

i88 MONTESPAN

by royal command, it had been laid in a vault of the cathedral.
I opened his pretty casket of citron wood, with locks of steel
and silver. The first object which met my eyes was a fine
and charming portrait of Madame de la Valliere. The face
was smiling in the midst of this great tragedy, and that upset
me entirely, and made my tears flow again. Five or six tales
of M. la Fontaine had been imitated most elegantly by the
young prince himself, and to these rather frivolous verses he
had joined some songs and madrigals. All these little relics
of a youth so eager to live betokened a mind that was agreeable,
and not libertine. In any case the sacrifice was accomplished ;
reflections were in vain, I burned these papers, and all those
which seemed to me without direct importance or striking
interest. That was not the case with a correspondence, full
of wit, tenderness, and fire, of whose origin the good Sydney
pretended ignorance, but which two or three anecdotes that
were related sufficiently revealed to me. The handsome Comte
de Vermandois, barely seventeen years old, had won the heart
of a fair lady, of about his own age, who expressed her passion
for him with an energy, a delicacy, and a talent far beyond all
that we admire in books.

I knew her ; the King loved her. Her husband, a most dis-
tinguished field-officer, cherished her and believed her to be
faithful. I burned this dangerous correspondence, for M, de
Vermandois, barely adolescent, was already a father, and his
mistress gloried in it.

On receiving this casket, in which she saw once more the
portraits of her mother, her brother, and her husband, Madame
la Princesse de Conti felt the most sorrowful emotion. I told
her that I had acquitted myself, out of kindness and respect,
of a commission almost beyond my strength, and I begged
her never to mention it to the King, who, perhaps, would have
liked to see and judge himself all that I had destroyed.

M. le Comte de Vermandois left by his death the post of
high admiral vacant. The King begged me to bring him my
little Comte de Toulouse ; and passing round his neck a fine
chain of coral mixed with pearls, to which a diamond anchor
was attached, he invested him with the dignity of high admiral
of France. " Be ever prudent and good, my amiable child,"
he said to him, raising his voice, which had grown weak ; " be

TRIUMPH OF MADAME DE MAINTENON 189

happier than your predecessor, and never give me the grief of
mourning your loss."

I thanked the King for my son, who looked at his decoration
of brilliants and did not feel its importance. I hope that he will
feel that later and prove himself worthy of it.

At the time when I founded my little community of Saint
Joseph, Madame de Maintenon had already collected near her
chateau at Rueil a certain number of well-born but poor young
persons, to whom she was giving a good education, propor-
tioned to their present condition and their birth. She had
charged herself with the maintenance of two former nuns,
noble and well educated, who, at the fall of their community,
had been recommended, or had procured a recommendation,
to her. Mesdames de Brinon and du Basque were these two
vagrant nuns. Madame de Maintenon, instinctively attracted
to this sort of persons, welcomed and protected them.

The little pension or community of Rueil, having soon be-
come known, several families who had fallen into distress or
difBculty solicited the kindness of the directress toward their
daughters, and Madame de Maintenon admitted more inmates
than the space allowed. A more roomy habitation was bought
nearer Versailles, which was still only temporary ; and the
King, having been taken into confidence with regard to these
little girls, who mostly belonged to his own impoverished offi-
cers, judged that the moment had come to found a fine and
large educational establishment for the young ladies of his
nobility.

He bought, at the entrance to the village of Saint Cyr, in
close proximity to Versailles, a large old chateau, belonging
to M. Seguier ; ^ and on the site of this chateau, which he
pulled down, the royal house of Saint Cyr was speedily erected.
I will not go into the nature and aim of a foundation which is
known nowadays through the whole of Europe. I will con-
tent myself with observing that if Madame de Maintenon con-
ceived the first idea of it, it is the great benefactions of the
monarch and the profound recognition of the nobility which
have given stability and renown to this house.

Madame de Maintenon received much praise and incense
as the foundress of this community. It has been quite easy

^ M. de Seguier-Montbrisson.

ipo MONTESPAN

for her to found so vast an establishment with the treasures of
France, since she herself had remained poor, by her own con-
fession, and had neither to sell nor encumber Maintenon, her
sole property.

In founding my community of Saint Joseph, I was neither
seconded nor aided by anybody. Saint Joseph springs en-
tirely from myself, from good intentions, without noise or
display. Saint Joseph is one of my good actions, and although
it makes no great noise in the world, I would rather have
founded it than Saint Cyr, where the most exalted houses
procure admission for their children with false certificates of
poverty.^

The buildings of Saint Cyr, in spite of all the sums they
have absorbed, have no external nobility or grandeur. The
foundress put upon it the seal of her parsimony, or, rather, of
her general timidity. She is like Moliere's Harpagon, who
would like to do great things for little money.^ The only
beauty about the house is in the laundry and gardens. All
the rest reminds you of a convent of Capuchins. The chapel
has not even necessary and indispensable dignity ; it is a long,
narrow barn, without arches, pillars, or decorations. The King,
having wished to know beforehand what revenue would be
needed for a community of 400 persons, consulted M. de
Louvois. That Minister, accustomed to calculate open-
handedly, put in an estimate of 500,000 livres a year. The
foundress presented hers, which came to no more than 25,000
crowns. His Majesty adopted a middle course, and assigned
a revenue of 300,000 Hvres to his Royal House of Saint Cyr.

The foundress, foreseeing the financial embarrassments
which have supervened later, conceived the idea of making
the clergy (who are childless) support the education of these
350 young ladies. In consequence, she cast her eyes upon
the rich Abbey of Saint Denis, then vacant, and suggested it
to the King, as being almost sufficient to provide for the new
establishment.

This idea astonished the prince. He found it, at first, au-
dacious, not to say perilous ; but, on further reflection, consider-

* This abuse was suppressed on its 'Here Madame de Montcspan forgets

first appearance, but it recurred and what she has just said, that Saint Cyr

gained strength after the death of Ma- cost " immense sums " — an ordinary ef-

dame de Maintenon. feet of passion.

TRIUMPH OF MADAME DE MAINTENON

191

ing that the monks of Saint Denis Hve under the rule of a
prior, and never see their abbot, who is ahnost always a great
noble and a man of the world, his Majesty consented to sup-
press the said abbey in order to provide for the children.

The monks of Saint Denis, alarmed at such an innovation
(which did not, however, afifect their own goods and revenues),
composed a petition in the form of the factum that our advo-
cates draw up in a suit. They exclaimed in this document
" on the disrepute which this innovation would bring upon
their ancient, respectable, and illustrious community. In sup-
pressing the title of Abbot of Saint Denis," they said further,
" your Majesty, in reality, suppresses our abbey ; and if our
abbey is reduced to nothing, our basilica, where the kings, your
ancestors, lie, will be no more than a royal church, and will
cease to be abbatial."

Further on this petition said : " Sire, may it please your
Majesty, whose eyes can see so far, to appreciate this innovation
in all its terrible consequences. By striking to-day dissolution
and death into the first abbey of your kingdom, do you not
fear to leave behind you a great and sinister precedent ? . . .
What Louis the Great has looked upon as possible will seem
righteous and necessary to your successors ; and it will happen,
may be, before long, that the thirst for conquests and the needs
of the State (those constant and familiar pretexts of ministers)
will authorize some political Attila to extend your work, and
wreak destruction upon the tabernacle by depriving it of the
splendor which is its due, and which sustains it."

Madame de Maintenon, to whom this aiTair was intrusted,
summoned the administrative monks of Saint Denis to Ver-
sailles. She received them with her agreeable and seductive
courtesy, and putting on her dulcet and fluted voice, said to
them that their alarm was without foundation; that his Majesty
did not suppress their abbey ; that he simply took it from the
male sex to give it to the female, seeing that the Salic law never
included the dignities of the Church nor her revenues.

" The King leaves you," she added, " those immense and
prodigious treasures of Saint Denis, more ancient, perhaps,
than the oriflamme. That is your finest property, your true
and illustrious glory. In general, your abbots have been, to
this very day, unknown to you. Do you find, gentlemen, that

igz MONTESPAN

religion was more honored and respected when men of battle,
covered with murders and other crimes, were called Abbots of
Saint Denis ? Beneath the government of the King such nom-
inations would never have afifected the Church ; and after
the present M. le Chevalier de Lorraine, we shall hear no
more of nominating an abbot-commandant on the steps of the
Opera.

" Our little girls are cherubim and seraphim, occupied un-
ceasingly with the praise of the Lord. I recommend them to
your holy prayers, and you can count on theirs."

With this compliment she dismissed the monks, and what
she had resolved on was carried out.

The King, who all his life had loved children greatly, did
not take long to contract an afifection for this budding colony.
He liked to assist sometimes at their recreations and exercises,
and, as though Versailles had been at the other end of the
world, he had a magnificent apartment built at Saint Cyr.
This fine armorial pavilion decorates the first long court in the
centre. The mere buildings announce a king ; the royal crown
surmounts them.

At first the education of Saint Cyr had been intrusted to
canonesses ; but a canoness only takes annual vows ; that term
expired, she is at liberty to retire and marry. Several of these
ladies having proved thus irresolute as to their estate, and the
house being afraid that a greater number would follow, the
Abbe de Fenelon, who cannot endure limited or temporary
devotion, thought fit to introduce fixed and perpetual vows
into Saint Cyr, and that willy-nilly.

This elegant abbe says all that he means, and resolutely
means all that he can say. By means of his lectures, a mixed
and facile form of eloquence, which is his glory, he easily proved
to these poor canonesses that streams and rivers flow ever
since the world began, and never think of suspending their
current or abandoning their direction. He reminded them
that the sun, which is always in its place and always active,
never dreams of abandoning its functions, either from incon-
stancy or caprice. He told them that wise kings are never
seized with the idea or temptation of abdicating their crown,
and that God, who serves them as a model and example, is
ceaselessly occupied, with relation to the world, in preserving,

TRIUMPH OF MADAME DE MAINTENON 193

reanimating, and maintaining it. Starting from there, the in-
genious man made them confess that they ought to remain
at their post and bind themselves to it by a perpetual vow.

The first efifect of this fine oration having been a little dissi-
pated, objections broke out. One young and lovely canoness
dared to maintain the rights of her freedom, even in the face
of her most amiable enemy. Madame de Maintenon rushed
to the succor of the Abbe of Saint Sulpice, and half by wheed-
ling, half by tyranny, obtained the cloister and perpetual vows.

I must render this justice to the King ; he never would pro-
nounce or intervene in this pathetic struggle. His royal hand
profited, no doubt, by a submission which the Abbe de Fenelon
imposed upon timidity, credulity, and obedience. The House
of Saint Cyr profited thereby ; but the King only regretted a
new religious convent, for, as a rule, he liked them not. How
many times has he unburdened himself before me on the
subject !

To-day, when time and reflection, and, perhaps, that fund of
contempt which is so useful, have finally revealed to me the
insurmountable necessities of life, I can look with a certain
amount of composure at the injury which the King did me.
I had at first resolved to conclude, with the chapter which you
have just read, my narrative of the more or less important
things which have passed or been unfolded before my eyes.
For long I did not feel myself strong enough to approach a
narrative which might open up all my old wounds and make
my blood boil again ; but I finished by considering that our
monarch's reign will be necessarily the subject of a multitude
of commentaries, journals, and memoirs. All these confidential
writings will speak of me to the generations to be ; some will
paint me as one paints an object whom one loves ; others, as
the object one detests. The latter, to render me more odious,
will probably revile my character, and, perhaps, represent me
as a cowardly and despairing mistress, who has descended even
to supplications ! ! It is my part, therefore, to retrace with a
firm and vigorous hand this important epoch of my life, where
my destiny, at once kind and cruel, reduced me to treat the
greatest of all kings both as my equal and as an inconstant
friend, as a treacherous enemy, and as my inferior or subject.
He had, at first, the intention of putting me to death — of that
13

194 MONTESPAN

I am persuaded — but soon his natural gentleness got the better
of his pride. He grasped the wounds in my heart from the
deplorable commotion of my face. If his former friend was
guilty in her speech, he was far more guilty by his actions.
Like an equitable judge he pardoned neither of us; he did not
forgive himself and he dared not condemn me.

Since this sad time of desertion and sorrow, into which the
new state of things had brought me, MM. de Mortemart, de
Nevers, and de Vivonne had been glad to avoid me. They
found my humor altered, and I admit that a woman who sulks,
scolds, or complains is not very attractive company.

One day the poor Marechal de Vivonne came to see me ;
he opened my shutters to call my attention to the beauty of the
sky, and, my health seeming to him a trifle poor, he suggested
to me to embark at once in his carriage and to go and dine at
Clagny. I had no will left that day, so I accompanied my
brother.

Being come to Clagny, the marshal, having shut himself
up with me in his closet, said to me the words which follow :

" You know, my sister, how all along you have been dear to
me ; the grief which is wearing you out does me almost as
much harm as you. To-day I wish to hurt you for your own
good, and get you away from this locality in spite of yourself.
Kings are not to be opposed as we oppose our equals ; our
King, whom you know by heart, has never suffered contra-
diction. He has had you asked, two or three times already, to
leave his palace and to go and live on your estates. Why do
you delay to satisfy him, and to withdraw from so many eyes
which watch you with pity?"

" The King, I am very sure, would like to see me away," I
replied to the marshal, " but he has never formally expressed
himself, and it is untrue that any such wish has been intimated
or insinuated to me."

" What ! you did not receive two letters last year, which
invited you to make up your mind and retire ! "

" I received two anonymous letters ; nothing is more true.
Could those two letters have been sent to me by the King him-
self?"

" The Marquis de Chamarante wrote them to you, but be-
neath the eyes, and at the dictation, of his Majesty."

TRIUMPH OF MADAME DE MAINTENON

195

" Ah, God ! What is it you tell me ? What ! the Marquis de
Chamarante,* whom I thought one of my friends, has lent
himself to such an embassy ! "

" The marquis is a good man, a man of honor ; and his es-
sential duty is to please his sovereign, his master. Moreover,
at the time when the letters were sent you, time remained to
you for deliberation. To-day, all time for delay has expired;
you must go away of your own free will, or receive the affront
of a command, and a lettre de cachet in form."

" A lettre de cachet for me ! for the mother of the Due du
Maine and the Comte de Toulouse! We shall see that, my
brother ! We shall see ! "

" There is nothing to see or do but to summon here all your
people, and leave to-morrow, either for my chateau of Roissy,
or for your palace at Petit-Bourg ; things are pressing, and the
day after to-morrow I will explain all without any secrecy."

" Explain it to me at once, my brother, and I promise to sat-
isfy you."

" Do you give me your word ? "

" I give it you, my good and dear friend, with pleasure. In-
form me of what is in progress."

" Madame de Maintenon, whom, having loved once greatly,
you no longer love, had the kindness to have me summoned to
her this morning."

" The kindness ! "

" Do not interrupt me — yes, the kindness. From the moment
that she is in favor, all that comes from her requires consider-
ation. She had me taken into her small salon, and there she
charged me to tell you that she has always loved you, that she
always will ; that your rupture with her has displeased the
King; that for a long time, and on a thousand occasions, she
has excused you to his Majesty, but that things are now hope-
less ; that your retreat is required at all costs, and that it will
be joined with an annual pension of 600,000 livres." ^

" And you advise me — ? " I said to my brother.

" I advise you, I implore you, I conjure you, to accept these
propositions which save everything."

Mv course was clear to me on the instant. Wishing to be

* Gentleman in waiting to the Queen, ° Two million four hundred thousand

and afterward to Madame de Mainte- francs to-day.
non.

196 MONTESPAN

relieved of the importunities of the marshal (a courtier, if ever
there was one), I embraced him with tears in my eyes. I
assured him that, for the honor of the family and out of com-
placence, I accepted his propositions. I begged him to take me
back to Versailles, where I had to gather together my money,
jewels, and papers.

The Due de Vivonne, v/ell as he knew me, did not suspect
my trickery ; he applied a score of kisses to my " pretty little
white hands," and his postilions, giving free play to their reins,
speedily brought us back to the chateau.

All beaming with joy and satisfaction, he went to convey his
reply to Madame de Maintenon, who was probably expecting
him. Twenty minutes hardly elapsed. The King himself en-
tered my apartment.

He came toward me with a friendly air, and, hardly remark-
ing my agitation, which I was suppressing, he dared to address
the following words to me : " The shortest follies are the best,
dear marquise ; you see things at last as they should be seen.
Your determination, which the Marechal de Vivonne has just
informed me of, gives me inexpressible pleasure ; you are
going to take the step of a clever woman, and everybody will
applaud you for it. It will be eighteen years to-morrow ® since
we took a fancy for each other. We were then in that period
of life when one sees only that which flatters, and the satis-
faction of the heart surpasses everything. Our attachment,
if it had been right and legitimate, might have begun with the
same ardor, but it could not have endured so long ; that is the
property of all contested affections.

" From our union amiable children have been born, for whom
I have done, and will do, all that a father with good intentions
can do. The act which acknowledged them in full Parliament
has not named you as their mother, because your bonds pre-
vented it, but these respectful children know that they owe you
their existence, and not one of them shall forget it while I live.

" You have charmed by your wit and the liveliness of your
character the busiest years of my life and reign. That pleasant
memory will never leave me, and separated though we be, as
good sense and propriety of every kind demands, we shall still
belong to each other in thought. Athenais will always be to

•In 1667; she was born in 1641.

TRIUMPH OF MADAME DE MAINTENON

197

me the mother of my dear children. I have been mindful up
to this day to increase at different moments the amount of your
fortune : I believe it to be considerable, and wish, nevertheless,
to add to it even more. If the pension that Vivonne had just
suggested to you appear insufficient, two lines from your pen
will notify me that I must increase it.

" Your children being proclaimed princes of France, the
court will be their customary residence, but you will see them
frequently, and can count on my commands. Here they are
coming — not to say good-bye to you, but, as of old, to embrace
you on the eve of a journey.

" If you are prudent, you will write first to the Marquis de
Montespan, not to annul and revoke the judicial and legal
separation which exists, but to inform him of your return to
reasonable ideas, and of your resolve to be reconciled with the
public."

With these words the King ceased speaking. I looked at
him with a fixed gaze ; a long sigh escaped from my heaving
breast, and I had with him, as nearly as I can remember, the
following conversation :

" I admire the sang-froid with which a prince who believes
himself, and is believed by the whole universe, to be magnani-
mous, gives the word of dismissal to the tender friend of his
youth — to that friend who, by a misfortune which is too well
known, knew how to leave all and love him alone.

" From the day when the friendship which had united us
cooled and w^as dissipated, you have resumed with regard to
me that distance which your rank authorizes you, and on my
side, I have submitted to see in you only my King. This revo-
lution has taken effect without any shock, or noise, or scandal.
It has continued for two years already ; why should it not con-
tinue in the same manner until the moment when my last two
children no longer require my eyes, and presence, and care?
What sudden cause, what urgent motive, can determine you
to exclude me? Does not, then, the humiliation which I have
suffered for two years any longer satisfy your aversion ? "

" What ! " cried the prince, in consternation, " is your reso-
lution no longer the same? Do you go back upon what you
promised to your brother ? "

" I do not change my resolution," I resumed at once ; " the

198 MONTESPAN

places which you inhabit have neither charm nor attraction for
my heart, which has always detested treachery and falseness.
I consent to withdraw myself from your person, but on condi-
tion that the odious intriguer who has supplanted me shall fol-
low the unhappy benefactress who once opened to her the doors
of this palace. I took her from a state of misery, and she
plunges daggers into my breast."

" The kings of Europe," said the prince, white with agita-
tion and anger, " have not yet laid down the law to me in my
palace ; you shall not make me submit to yours, madame. The
person whom, for far too long, you have been offending and
humiliating before my eyes, has ancestors who yield in noth-
ing to your forefathers, and if you have introduced her to this
palace, you have introduced here goodness, sweetness, talent,
and virtue itself. This enemy, whom you defame in every
quarter, and who every day excuses and justifies you, will
abide near this throne, which her fathers have defended and
which her good counsel now defends. In sending you to-day
from a court where your presence is without motive and pre-
text, I wished to keep from your knowledge, and in kindness
withdraw from your eyes an event likely to irritate you, since
everything irritates you. Stay, madame, stay, since great catas-
trophes appeal to and amuse you ; after to-morrow you will be
more than ever a supernumerary in this chateau."

At these words I realized that it was a question of the public
triumph of my rival. All my firmness vanished ; my heart was,
as it were, distorted with the most rapid palpitations. I felt an
icy coldness run through my veins, and I fell unconscious upon
my carpet.

My woman came to bring me help, and when my senses re-
turned, I heard the King saying to my intendant : " All
this wearies me beyond endurance ; she must go this very
day."

" Yes, I will go," I cried, seizing a dessert knife which was
on my bureau. I rushed forward with a mechanical move-
ment upon my little Comte de Toulouse, whom I snatched from
the hands of his father, and I was on the verge of sacrificing
this child. •

I shudder every time I think of that terrible and desperate
scene. But reason had left me ; sorrow filled my soul ; I was

TRIUMPH OF MADAME DE MAINTENON

199

no longer myself. My reader must be penetrated by my mis-
fortune and have compassion on me.

Madame de Maintenon, informed probably of this storm,
arrived and suddenly showed herself. To rush forward, snatch
away the dagger and my child was but one movement for her.
Her tears coursed in abundance ; and the King, leaning on the
marble of my chimney-piece, shed tears and seemed to feel a
sort of suffocation.

My women had removed my children. My intendant alone
had remained in the deep embrasure of a shutter ; the poor man
had affliction and terror painted on his face. Madame de
Maintenon had slightly wounded herself in seizing my knife.
I saw her tearing her handkerchief, putting on lavender-water
in order to moisten the bandage. As she left me she took my
hand with an air of kindness, and her tears began again.

The King, seeing her go out, retired without addressing me
a word. I might call as much as I would ; he did not return.

Until nightfall I seemed to be in a state of paralysis. My
arms were like lead ; my will could no longer stir them. I
was distressed at first, and then I thanked God, who was deliv-
ering me from the torments of existence. All night my body
and soul moved in the torrent and waves of a fever handed over
to phantoms ; I saw in turn the smiling plains of paradise and
the dire domain of hell. My children, covered with wounds,
asked me for pardon, kneeling before me ; and Madame de
Maintenon, one mass of blood, reproached me for having killed
her. On the following day a copious bloodletting, prescribed
by my doctor, relieved my head and heart.

The following week Madame de Maintenon, entirely cured
of her scratch, consented to the King's will, which she had
opposed in order to excite it, and in the presence of the Mar-
quis and Marquise de Montchevreuil, the Due de Noailles, the
Marquis de Chamarante, M. Bontems, and Mademoiselle Ni-
non, her permanent chambermaid, was married to the King of
France and Navarre in the chapel of the chateau.

The Abbe de Harlay, Archbishop of Paris, assisted by the
Bishop of Chartres and Pere de la Chaise, had the honor of
blessing this marriage and presenting the rings of gold. After
the ceremony, which took place at an early hour, and even by
torchlight, there was a slight repast in the small apartments.

200 MONTESPAN

The same persons, taking carriages, then repaired to Mainte-
non, where the great ceremony, the mass, and all that is cus-
tomary in such cases were celebrated.

At her return, Madame de Maintenon took possession of an
extremely sumptuous apartment that had been carefully ar-
ranged and furnished for her. Her people continued to wear
her livery, but she scarcely ever rode any more except in the
great carriage of the King, where we saw her in the place
which had been occupied by the Queen. In her interior the
title of Majesty was given her; and the King, when he had
to speak of her, only used the word Madame, without adding
Maintenon, that having become too familiar and trivial.

He was desirous of proclaiming her ; she consistently op-
posed it, and this prudent and wise conduct regained for her,
little by little, the opinions which had been shocked.

A few days after the marriage, my health being somewhat
re-established, I went to Petit-Bourg ; but the Marechal de
Vivonne, his son Louis de Vivonne, all the Mortemarts, all the
Rochechouarts, Thianges, Damas, Seignelays, Blainvilles, and
Colberts — in a word, counts, marquises, barons, prelates, and
duchesses, came to find me and attack me in my desert, in
order to represent to me that, since Madame de Maintenon
was the wife of the monarch, I owed her my homage and re-
spectful compliments. The whole family has done so, said
these cruel relations ; you only have not yet fulfilled this duty.
You must do it, in God's name. She has neither airs nor hau-
teur; you will be marvellously well received. Your resistance
would compromise us all.

Not desiring to harm or displease my family, and wishing,
above all, to reinstate myself somewhat in the King's mind, I
resolutely prepared for this distressing journey, and God gave
me the necessary strength to execute it.

I appeared in a long robe of gold and silver before the new
spouse of the monarch. The King, who was sitting at a table,
rose for a moment and encouraged me by his greeting. I made
the three pauses and three reverences as I gradually approached
Madame de Maintenon, who occupied a large and rich arm-
chair of brocade. She did not rise ; etiquette forbade it, and
principally the presence of the all-powerful King of kings. Her
complexion, ordinarily pale, and with a very slight tone of

TRIUMPH OF MADAME DE MAINTENON 201

pink, was animated suddenly, and took all the colors of the
rose. She made me a sign to seat myself on a stool, and it
seemed to me that her amiable gaze apologized to me. She
spoke to me of Petit-Bourg, of the waters of Bourbon, of her
country place, of my children, and said to me, smiling kindly :
'' I am going to confide in you. Monsieur le Prince has already
asked Mademoiselle de Nantes for his grandson, M. le Due de
Bourbon, and his Highness promises us his granddaughter for
our Due du Maine. Two or three years more, and we shall see
all that."

After half an hour spent thus, I rose from this uncomfortable
stool and made my farewell reverences. Madame de Mainte-
non, profiting by the King having leaned over to write, rose
five or six inches in her chair, and said to me these words:
" Do not let us cease to love one another, I implore you."

I went to rest myself in the poor apartment which was still
mine, since the keys had not yet been returned, and I sent for
M. le Due du Maine, who said to me coldly : " I have much
pleasure in seeing you again ; we were going to write to you."

I had come out from Madame de Maintenon by the door of
mirrors, which leads to the great gallery. There was much
company there at the moment; M. le Prince de Salm came to
me and said : " Go and put on your peignoir ; you are flushed,
and I can perfectly well understand why." He pressed my
hand affectionately. In all the salons they were eager to see
me pass. Some courageous persons came even within touch
of my fan ; and all were more or less pleased with my mishap
and downfall. I had seen all these figures at my feet, and
almost all were under obligations to me. I left Versailles
again very early. When I was seated in my carriage I no-
ticed the King, who, from the height of his balcony in the court
of marble, watched me set off and disappear.

I settled at Paris, where my personal interest and my great
fortune gave me an existence which many might have envied.
I never returned to Versailles, except for the weddings of my
eldest daughter, and of my son, the Serious ; '^ I always loved
him better than he did me.

Pere de Latour, my director, obtained from me then, when

^ Louis Auguste de Bourbon, Due du Maine, a good man, somewhat devout
and melancholy.

202 MONTESPAN

I had refused hitherto to everybody, a letter of reconciliation
to M. le Marquis de Montespan. I had foreseen the reply,
which was that of an obstinate, ill-bred, and evil man.

Pere de Latour, going further, wished to impose hard, not
to say murderous, penances on me; I begged him to keep
within bounds, and not to make me impatient. This Oratorian
and his admirers have stated that I wore a hair shirt and shroud.
Pious slanders, every word of them ! I give many pensions
and alms, that is to say, I do good to several families ; the
good that I bestow about me will be more agreeable to God
than any harm I could do myself, and that I maintain.

LOUIS XIV.

Photogravure from the original painting by C. Le Fjbure.

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV

2DUC tie ^aint:?^imon

{Louis de Rouvroi)

LOUIS DE ROUVROI, DUC DE SAINT-SIMON

1675— 1755

Louis de Rouvroi, Due de Saint-Simon, whose family claimed descent
from no less a source than Charlemagne, was born in January, 1675, and
died at Paris in March, 1755. After receiving a careful education under
the superintendence of his mother, he entered the army in 1693, but,
considering his promotion not equal to his deserts, he resigned his com-
mission in 1702, and devoted the remainder of his life to a sort of court
statesmanship. Saint-Simon's position was as singular and as anomalous
as his character. Profoundly ambitious, his pride was yet greater than
his ambition. His ideas of aristocratic rights and privileges were perhaps
more outrageously fanatical than any ever entertained in modern ages,
and the whole aim of his life was to nullify the influence of the Parlia-
ment, and to place the government of France in the hands of iheo^ra;:ds
seigneurs — the great territorial lords. The middle class he abhorred ;
and the rise to distinction of anyone belonging to that order — any novtis
homo — tortured his patrician soul almost beyond endurance. We have
not space to recount his career of haughty and insolent conspiracy against
the political rights of commoners, which marks him out as the most thor-
oughgoing oligarch in principle of whom we have any record. During
the latter part of Louis XIV's reign, and the regency of the Duke of
Orleans, he enjoyed much consideration, and his aristocratic policy more
than once enjoyed a temporary triumph ; but with the accession to the
regency of the Due de Bourbon he fell into disgrace, and withdrew from
public life.

Saint-Simon's last years were occupied chiefly in the composition of his
famous " Memoirs," a work of incalculable historical value. Though
the style is far from faultless, it so admirably expresses the meaning of
the author, that one would not wish it other than it is. Probably no work
of like kind has ever attained such wide popularity ; and in many respects
it deserves its reputation. It forms a perfect picture, highly finished in
all details, of the court of Louis XIV during the last two decades of his
reign, and of the period of the regency. The Due de Saint-Simon was,
to a certain extent, an actor in the intrigues he describes. At any rate, he
was always sufficiently near to see their development and be acquainted
with their promoters.

204

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV

IT was scarcely to be expected, perhaps, that M. du Maine
would remain altogether quiet under the disgrace which
had been heaped upon him by the proceedings at the
Bed of Justice. Soon indeed we found that he had been se-
cretly working out the most perfidious and horrible schemes
for a long time before that assembly ; and that after his fall, he
gave himself up with redoubled energy to his devilish devices.

Toward the end of this memorable year, 1718, it was dis-
covered that Alberoni, by means of Cellamare, Spanish am-
bassador at our court, was preparing a plot against the Regent.
The scheme was nothing less than to throw all the realm into
revolt against the government of M. le Due d'Orleans ; to put
the King of Spain at the head of the affairs of France, with a
council and ministers named by him, and a lieutenant, who
would in fact have been regent ; this self-same lieutenant to
be no other than the Due du Maine !

This precious plot was, fortunately, discovered before it had
come to maturity. Had such not happened, the consequences
might have been very serious, although they could scarcely
have been fatal. The conspirators counted upon the Parlia-
ments of Paris and of Brittany, upon all the old court accus-
tomed to the yoke of the bastards, and to that of Madame de
Maintenon ; and they flung about promises with an unsparing
hand to all who supported them. After all, it must be admitted,
however, that the measures they took and the men they secured,
were strangely unequal to the circumstances of the case, when
the details became known ; in fact, there was a general murmur
of surprise among the public, at the contemptible nature of the
whole affair.

But let me relate the circumstances accompanying the dis-
covery of M. du Maine's pitiable treachery.

205

2o6 SAINT-SIMON

Cellamare, as I have said, was Spanish ambassador at our
court. He had been one of the chief movers in the plot. He
had excited, as much as lay in his power, discontent against
the Regent's government ; he had done his best to embroil
France with Spain; he had worked heart and soul with M. du
A-Iaine to carry out the common end they had in view. So
much preparation had been made, so much of the treason
train laid, that at last it became necessary to send to Alberoni
a full and clear account of all that had been done, so as to
paint exactly the position of affairs, and determine the measures
that remained to be taken. But how to send such an account
as this? To trust it to the ordinary channels of communi-
cation would have been to run a great risk of exposure and
detection. To send it by private hand would have been sus-
picious, if the hand were known, and dangerous if it were not :
Cellamare had long since provided for this difficulty.

He had caused a young ecclesiastic to be sent from Spain,
who came to Paris as though for his pleasure. There he was
introduced to young Monteleon, son of a former ambassador at
our court, who had been much liked. The young ecclesiastic
was called the Abbe Portocarrero, a name regarded with favor
in France. Monteleon came from The Hague, and was going to
Madrid. Portocarrero came from Madrid, and was going back
there. What more natural than that the two young men should
travel in company ? V/hat less natural than that the two young
men, meeting each other by pure accident in Paris, should be
charged by the ambassador with any packet of consequence,
he having his own couriers, and the use, for the return journey,
of those sent to him from Spain ? In fact, it may be believed
that these young people themselves were perfectly ignorant of
what they were charged with, and simply believed that, as
they were going to Spain, the ambassador merely seized the
occasion to intrust them with some packet of no special impor-
tance.

They set out, then, at the commencement of December, fur-
nished with passports from the King (for Alberoni had openly
caused almost a rupture between the two courts), with a
Spanish banker, who had been established in England, where
he had become bankrupt for a large amount, so that the Eng-
lish government had obtained permission from the Regent

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 207

to arrest him, if they could, anywhere in France. It will
sometimes be perceived that I am ill-instructed in this affair;
but I can only tell what I know: and as for the rest, I give
my conjectures. In fact, the Abbe Dubois kept everybody so
much in the dark, that even M. le Due d'Orleans was not in-
formed of all.

Whether the arrival of the Abbe Portocarrero in Paris, and
his short stay there, seemed suspicious to the Abbe Dubois and
his emissaries, or whether he had corrupted some of the prin-
cipal people of the Spanish ambassador and this court, and
learned that these young men were charged with a packet of
importance ; whether there was no other mystery than the bad
company of the bankrupt banker, and that the anxiety of
Dubois to oblige his friends the English induced him to arrest
the three travellers and seize their papers, lest the banker
should have confided his to the young men, I know not. But
however it may have been, it is certain that the Abbe Dubois
arrested the three travellers at Poitiers, and carried off their
papers, a courier bringing these papers to him immediately
afterward.

Great things sometimes spring from chance. The courier
from Poitiers entered the house of the Abbe Dubois just as
the Regent entered the opera. Dubois glanced over the papers,
and went and related the news of this capture to M. le Due
d'Orleans, as he left his box. This prince, who was accus-
tomed to shut himself up with his roues at that hour, did so
with a carelessness to which everything yielded, under pretext
that Dubois had not had sufficient time to examine all the
papers. The first few hours of the morning he was not him-
self. His head, still confused by the fumes of the wine and by
the undigested supper of the previous night, was not in a state
to understand anything, and the secretaries of state have often
told me that that was the time they could make him sign any-
thing. This was the moment taken by Dubois to acquaint the
Regent with as much or as little of the contents of the papers
as he thought fit. The upshot of their interview was that the
abbe was allowed by the Due d'Orleans to have the control of
this matter entirely in his own hands.

The day after the arrival of the courier from Poitiers, Cella-
mare, informed of what had occurred, but who flattered him-

2o8 SAINT-SIMON

self that the presence of the banker had caused the arrest of
the young men, and the seizure of their papers, hid his fears
under a very tranquil bearing, and went, at one o'clock in the
day, to M. le Blanc, to ask for a packet of letters he had in-
trusted to Portocarrero and Monteleon on their return to
Spain. Le Blanc (who had had his lesson prepared before-
hand by the Abbe Dubois) replied that the packet had been
seen; that it contained important things, and that, far from
being restored to him, he himself must go back to his hotel
under escort, to meet there M. I'Abbe Dubois. The ambas-
sador, who felt that such a compliment would not be attempted
without means having been prepared to put it in execution,
made no difficulty, and did not lose for a moment his address
or his tranquillity.

During the three hours, at least, passed in his house, in the
examination of all his bureaus and his boxes, and his papers,
Cellamare, like a man who fears nothing, and who is sure of
his game, treated M. le Blanc very civilly ; as for the Abbe
Dubois, with whom he felt he had no measure to keep (all the
plot being discovered), he affected to treat him with the utmost
disdain. Thus Le Blanc, taking hold of a little casket, Cella-
mare cried, " M. le Blanc, M. le Blanc, leave that alone; that
is not for you; that is for the Abbe Dubois " (who was then
present). Then looking at him, he added, "He has been a
pander all his life, and there are nothing but women's letters
there."

The Abbe Dubois burst out laughing, not daring to grow
angry.

When all was examined, the King's seal, and that of the
ambassador, were put upon all the bureaus and the caskets
which contained papers. The Abbe Dubois and Le Blanc went
off together to give an account of their proceedings to the Re-
gent, leaving a company of musketeers to guard the ambas-
sador and his household.

I heard of the capture effected at Poitiers, at home, the
morning after it occurred, without knowing anything of those
arrested. As I was at table, a servant came to me from M. le
Due d'Orleans, summoning me to a council of the regency, at
four o'clock that day. As it was not the usual day for the
council, I asked what was the matter. The messenger was

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV

209

surprised at my ignorance, and informed me that the Spanish
ambassador was arrested. As soon as I had eaten a morsel, I
quitted my company, and hastened to the Palais Royal, where I
learned from M. le Due d'Orleans all that I have just related.
Our conversation took up time, and, when it was over, I went
away to the Tuileries. I found there astonishment painted
upon several faces ; little groups of two, three, and four people
together ; and the majority struck by the importance of the
arrest, and little disposed to approve it.

M. le Due d'Orleans arrived shortly after. He had, better
than any man I have ever known, the gift of speech, and with-
out needing any preparation he said exactly what he wanted
to say, neither more nor less ; his expressions were just and
precise, a natural grace accompanied them with an air of
proper dignity, always mixed with an air of politeness. He
opened the council with a discourse upon the people and the
papers seized at Poitiers, the latter proving that a very dan-
gerous conspiracy against the State was on the eve of bursting,
and of which the ambassador of Spain was the principal pro-
moter. His Royal Highness alleged the pressing reasons
which had induced him to secure the person of this ambas-
sador, to examine his papers, and to place him under guard.
He showed that the protection afforded by the law of nations
did not extend to conspiracies, that ambassadors rendered
themselves unworthy of that protection w^hen they took part
in them, still more when they excited people against the State
where they dwelt. He cited several examples of ambassadors
arrested for less. He explained the orders he had given so as
to inform all the foreign ministers in Paris of what had oc-
curred, and had ordered Dubois to render an account to the
council of what he had done at the ambassador's, and offered
to read the letters from Cellamare to Cardinal Alberoni, found
among the papers brought from Poitiers.

The Abbe Dubois stammered out a short and ill-arranged
recital of what he had done at the ambassador's house, and
dwelt upon the importance of the discovery and upon that
of the conspiracy as far as already known. The two letters
he read left me no doubt that Cellamare was at the head
of this affair, and that Alberoni had entered into it as far
as he. We were much scandalized with the expressions in
14

2IO SAINT-SIMON

these letters against M. le Due d'Orleans, who was in no way
spared.

This prince spoke again, to say he did not suspect the King
or Queen of Spain to be mixed up in this affair, but that he
attributed it all to the passion of Alberoni, and that of his
ambassador to please him, and that he would ask for justice
from their Catholic Majesties. He showed the importance of
neglecting no means in order to clear up an affair so capital to
the repose and tranquillity of the kingdom, and finished by
saying, that until he knew more he would name nobody who
was mixed up in the matter. All this speech was much ap-
plauded, and I believe there were some among the company
who felt greatly relieved when they heard the Regent say he
would not name anybody or allow suspicions to be circulated
until all was unravelled.

Nevertheless the next day, Saturday, December loth, more
than one arrest was made. Others took place a few days after-
ward.

On Tuesday, December 13th, all the foreign ministers went
to the Palais Royal, according to custom ; not one made any
complaint of what had happened. A copy of the two letters
read at the council was given to them. In the afternoon, Cella-
mare was placed in a coach with a captain of cavalry and a
captain of dragoons, chosen to conduct him to Blois, until Saint
Aignan, our ambassador in Spain, should arrive in France.

The position of our ambassador, Saint Aignan, at Madrid,
was, as may be imagined, by no means agreeable. The two
courts were just upon the point of an open rupture, thanks to
the hatred Alberoni had made it a principle to keep up in
Spain against M. le Due d'Orleans, by crying down his actions,
his government, his personal conduct, his most innocent acts,
and by rendering suspicious even his favorable proceedings
with regard to Spain. Alberoni for a long time had ceased to
keep on even decent terms with Saint Aignan, scandalizing
thus even the most unfavorably disposed toward France. Saint
Aignan only maintained his position by the sagacity of his con-
duct, and he was delighted when he received orders to return
to France. He asked for his parting audience, and meanwhile
bade adieu to all his friends and to all the court. Alberoni,
who every moment expected decisive news from Cellamare

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 211

respecting the conspiracy, wished to remain master of our
ambassador, so as, in case of accident, to have a useful hostage
in his hands as security for his own ambassador. He put off
therefore this parting audience under various pretexts. At
last, Saint Aignan, pressed by his reiterated orders (orders all
the more positive because suspicion had already begun to fore-
see a disturbance ever alarming), spoke firmly to the cardinal,
and declared that if this audience were not at once accorded
to him, he would do without it. Therefore the cardinal, in
anger, replied with a menace, that he knew well enough how
to hinder him from acting thus.

Saint Aignan wisely contained himself ; but seeing to what
sort of a man he was exposed, and, judging rightly why he
was detained at Madrid, took his measures so secretly and so
well, that he set out the same night, with his most necessary
equipage, gained ground, and arrived at the foot of the Pyrenees
without being overtaken and arrested ; two occurrences which
he expected at every moment, knowing that Alberoni was a
man who would stick at nothing.

Saint Aignan, already so far advanced, did not deem it ad-
visable to expose himself any longer, bothered as he would be
among the mountains by his carriages. He and the duchess,
his wife, followed by a waiting-woman and three valets, with
a very trusty guide, mounted upon mules and rode straight for
Saint Jean-Pied-de-Port without stopping a moment more on
the road than was necessary. He sent on his equipages to
Pampeluna at a gentle pace, and placed in his carriage an intel-
ligent valet de chambre and a waiting-woman, with orders to
pass themselves off as the ambassador and ambassadress of
France, and in case they were arrested to cry out a good deal.
The arrest did not fail to happen. The people despatched by
Alberoni soon came up with the carriage. The pretended am-
bassador and ambassadress played their parts very well, and
they who had arrested them did not doubt for a moment they
had made a fine capture, sending news of it to Madrid, and
keeping the prisoners in Pampeluna, to which the party re-
turned.

This device saved M. and Madame de Saint Aignan, and
gave them means to reach Saint Jean-Pied-de-Port ; as soon as
they arrived there they sent for assistance and carriages to

212 SAINT-SIMON

Bayonne, which they gained in safety, and reposed after their
fatigue. The Due de Saint Aignan sent word of all this to M.
le Due d'Orleans by a courier, and, at his arrival in Bayonne,
despatched a message to the governor of Pampeluna, begging
him to send on his equipages. Alberoni's people were very
much ashamed of having been duped, but Alberoni when he
heard of it flew into a furious rage, and cruelly punished the
mistake. The equipages were sent on to Bayonne.

To return now to what took place at Paris.

On Sunday, December 25th, Christmas day, M. le Due
d'Orleans sent for me to come and see him at the Palais Royal,
about four o'clock in the afternoon. I went accordingly, and
after despatching some business with him, other people being
present, I followed him into his little winter cabinet at the end
of the little gallery, M. le Due being present.

After a moment of silence, the Regent told me to see if no
one was outside in the gallery, and if the door at the end was
closed. I went out, found the door shut, and no one near.

This being ascertained, M. le Due d'Orleans said that we
should not be surprised to learn that M. and Madame du Maine
had been mixed up all along with this affair of the Spanish
ambassador Cellamare ; that he had written proofs of this, and
that the project was exactly that which I have already de-
scribed. He added, that he had strictly forbidden the keeper
of the seals, the Abbe Dubois, and Le Blanc, who alone knew
of this project, to give the slightest sign of their knowledge,
recommended to me the same secrecy, and the same precau-
tion; and finished by saying that he wished, above all things,
to consult M. le Due and me upon the course he ought to adopt.

M. le Due at once went to the point, and said M. and Madame
du Maine must at once be arrested and put where they could
cause no apprehension. I supported this opinion, and showed
the perilous annoyances that might arise if this step were not
instantly taken ; as much for the purpose of striking terror into
the conspirators, as for disconcerting their schemes. I added
that there was not a moment to lose, and that it was better to
incur uncertain danger than to wait for that which was certain.

Our advice was accepted by M. le Due d'Orleans, after some
little debate. But now the question arose, where are the pris-
oners to be put? The Bastile and Vincennes both seemed to

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV

213

me too near to Paris. Several places were named without one
appearing to suit. At last, M. le Due d'Orleans mentioned
Dourlens. I stopped him short at the name, and recommended
it warmly. I knew the governor, Charost, and his son to be
men of probity, faithful, virtuous, and much attached to the
State. Upon this it was agreed to send M. du Maine to
Dourlens.

Then we had to fix upon a place for his wife, and this was
more difficult ; there were her sex, her fiery temper, her cour-
age, her daring — all to be considered ; whereas, her husband,
we knew, so dangerous as a hidden enemy, was contemptible
without his mask, and would fall into the lowest state of de-
jection in prison, trembling all over with fear of the scaffold,
and attempting nothing ; his wife, on the contrary, being capa-
ble of attempting anything.

Various places discussed, M. le Due d'Orleans smiled, and
proposed the chateau of Dijon! Now, the joke of this sugges-
tion v/as, that Dijon belonged to M. le Due, and that he was
nephew of Madame du Maine, whom the Regent proposed to
lock up there! M. le Due smiled also, and said it was a little
too bad to make him the jailer of his aunt! But all things
considered, it was found that a better choice than Dijon could
not be made, so M. le Due gave way. I fancy he had held out
more for form's sake than for any other reason. These points
settled, we separated, to meet another time, in order to make
the final arrangements for the arrest.

We met accordingly, the Monday and Tuesday following,
and deliberated with the same secrecy as before. On Wednes-
day we assembled again to put the final touch to our work.
Our conference was long, and the result of it was, that M. and
Madame du Maine were to be arrested on the morrow ; all the
necessary arrangements were made, and, as we thought, with
the utmost secrecy. Nevertheless, the orders given to the
regiment of the guards, and to the musketeers, somehow or
other transpired during the evening, and gave people reason to
believe that something considerable was in contemplation. On
leaving the conference, I arranged with Le Blanc that, when
the blow was struck, he should inform me by simply sending a
servant to inquire after my health.

The morrow, about ten o'clock in the morning, having noise-

214 SAINT-SIMON

lessly and without show placed the body-guard around Sceaux,
La Billardiere, lieutenant of the regiment, entered there, and
arrested the Due du Maine as he was leaving his chapel after
hearing mass, and very respectfully begged him not to re-enter
the house, but to mount immediately into a coach which he
had brought. M. du Maine, who had expected this arrest, and
who had had time to put his papers in order, made not the
slightest resistance. He replied that he had anticipated this
compliment for some days, and at once moved into the coach.
La Billardiere placed himself by his side, and in front was an
exempt of the body-guards, and Favancourt, brigadier in the
first company of musketeers, destined to guard him in his
prison.

As these two latter persons did not appear before the Due
du Maine until the moment he entered the coach, he appeared
surprised and moved to see Favancourt. He would not have
been at the exempt, but the sight of the other depressed him.
He asked La Billardiere what this meant. Billardiere could
not dissimulate that Favancourt had orders to accompany him,
and to remain with him in the place to which they were going.
Favancourt himself took this moment to pay his compliments
as best he might to the Due du Maine, to which the duke replied
but little, and that in a civil and apprehensive manner. These
proceedings conducted them to the end of the avenue of Sceaux,
where the body-guards appeared. The sight of them made the
Due du Maine change color.

Silence was but little interrupted in the coach. Now and
then M. du Maine would say that he was very innocent of the
accusation which had been formed against him ; that he was
much attached to the King, and not less so to M. le Due d'Or-
leans, who could not but recognize it ; and that it was very
unfortunate his Royal Highness should put faith in his enemies
(he never named anybody). All this was said in a broken
manner, and amid many sighs ; from time to time signs of the
cross ; low mumblings as of prayers ; and plunges at each
church or each cross they passed. He took his meals in the
coach, ate very little, was alone at night, but with good pre-
cautions taken. He did not know until the morrow that he
was going to Dourlens. He showed no emotion thereupon.
All these details I learned from Favancourt, whom I knew very

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 215

well, and who was in the musketeers when I served in that
corps.

At the moment of the arrest of M. du Maine, Ancenis, cap-
tain of the body-guard, arrested the Duchesse du Maine in her
house in the Rue St. Honore. A lieutenant, and an exempt of
the foot body-guards, with other troops, took possession of the
house at the same time, and guarded the doors. The compli-
ment of the Due d'Ancenis was sharply received. Madame du
Maine wished to take away some caskets. Ancenis objected.
She demanded, at the least, her jewels ; altercations very strong
on one side, very modest on the other : but she was obliged to
yield. She raged at the violence done to a person of her rank,
without saying anything too disobliging to M. d'Ancenis, and
without naming anybody. She delayed her departure as long
as she could, despite the instances of D'Ancenis, who at last
presented his hand to her, and politely, but firmly, said she
must go. She found at her door two six-horse coaches, the
sight of which much shocked her. She was obliged, however,
to mount. Ancenis placed himself by her side, the lieutenant
and the exempt of the guard in front, two chambermaids whom
she had chosen were in the other coach, with her apparel, which
had been examined. The ramparts were followed, the principal
streets avoided; there was no stir, and at this she could not
restrain her surprise and vexation, or check a tear, declaiming
by fits and starts against the violence done her. She com-
plained of the rough coach, the indignity it cast upon her, and
from time to time asked where she was being led to. She was
simply told that she would sleep at Essonne, nothing more.
Her three guardians maintained profound silence. At night all
possible precautions were taken. When she set out the next
day, the Due d'Ancenis took leave of her, and left her to the
lieutenant, and to the exempt of the body-guards, with troops
to conduct her. She asked where they were leading her to:
he simply replied, " To Fontainebleau." The disquietude of
Madame du ]\Iaine augmented as she left Paris farther behind,
but when she found herself in Burgundy, and knew at last she
was to go to Dijon, she stormed at a fine rate.

It was worse when she was forced to enter the castle, and
found herself the prisoner of M. le Due. Fury suffocated her.
She raged against her nephew, and the horrible place chosen

2i6 SAINT-SIMON

for her. Nevertheless, after her first transports, she returned
to herself, and began to comprehend that she was in no place
and no condition to play the fury. Her extreme rage she kept
to herself, affected nothing but indifference for all, and disdain-
ful security. The King's lieutenant of the castle, absolutely
devoted to M. le Due, kept her fast, and closely watched her
and her chambermaids. The Prince de Dombes and the Comte
d'Eu (hep sons) were at the same time exiled to Eu, where a
gentleman in ordinary always was near them; Mademoiselle
du Maine was sent to Maubuisson.

Several other people were successively arrested and placed
either in the Bastile or Vincennes. The commotion caused by
the arrest and imprisonment of M. and Madame du Maine was
great ; many faces, already elongated by the Bed of Justice,
were still further pulled out by these events. The chief presi-
dent, D'Effiat, the Marechal de Villeroy, the Marechal de Vil-
lars, the Marshal d'Huxelles, and other devoted friends of M.
du Maine, were completely terrified ; they did not dare to say
a word ; they kept out of the way ; did not leave their houses
except from necessity ; fear was painted upon their faces. All
their pride was put aside ; they became polite, caressing, would
have eaten out of your hand ; and by this sudden change and
their visible embarrassment betrayed themselves.

As for the Comte de Toulouse he remained as upright and
loyal as ever. The very day of the double arrest he came to
M. le Due d'Orleans and said that he regarded the King, the
Regent, and the State as one and the same thing ; that he should
never be wanting in his duty or in his fidelity toward them;
that he was very sorry at what had happened to his brother,
but that he was in no way answerable for him. The Regent
stated this to me the same day, and appeared, with reason, to
be charmed with such straightforward honesty.

This arrest of M. and Madame du Maine had another effect.
For some time past, a large quantity of illicit salt had been
sold throughout the country. The people by whom this trade
was conducted, faux sauniers, as they were called, travelled
over the provinces in bands well armed and well organized. So
powerful had they become that troops were necessary in order
to capture them. There were more than 5,000 faux sauniers,
who openly carried on their traffic in Champagne and Picardy.

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 217

They had become poHtical instruments in the hands of others,
being secretly encouraged and commanded by those who wished
to sow trouble in the land. It could not be hidden that these
faux saunicrs were redoubtable by their valor and their ar-
rangements ; that the people were favorable to them, buying
as they did from them salt at a low price, and irritated as they
were against the gabclle and other imposts ; that these faux
sauniers spread over all the realm, and often marching in large
bands, which beat all opposed to them, were dangerous people,
who incited the population by their examples to opposition
against the government.

I had proposed on one occasion the abolition of the salt tax
to the Regent, as a remedy for these evils ; but my suggestion
shared the fate of many others. It was favorably listened to,
and nothing more. And meanwhile the faux saunicrs had
gone on increasing. I had no difficulty in discovering by whom
they were encouraged, and the event showed I was right. Di-
rectly after the arrest of M. and Madame du Maine, the faux
saunters laid down their arms, asked, and obtained pardon.
This prompt submission showed clearly enough by whom they
had been employed, and for what reason. I had uselessly told
M. le Due d'Orleans so long before, who admitted that I was
right, but did nothing. It was his usual plan.

Let me finish at once with all I shall have to say respecting
M. and Madame du Maine.

They remained in their prisons during the whole of the year
1719, supplied with all the comforts and attentions befitting
their state, and much less rigorously watched than at first,
thanks to the easy disposition of M. le Due d'Orleans, whose
firmness yielded even more rapidly than beauty to the effects
of time. The consequence of his indulgence toward the two
conspirators was, that at about the commencement of the fol-
lowing year, 1720, they began to play a very ridiculous comedy,
of which not a soul was the dupe, not even the public, nor the
principal actors, nor the Regent.

The Due and Duchesse du Maine, thanks to the perfidy of
the Abbe Dubois, had had time to hide away all their papers,
and to arrange together the different parts they should play.
Madame du Maine, supported by her sex and birth, muffled
herself up in her dignity, when replying to the questions ad-

2i8 SAINT-SIMON

dressed to her, of which just as many, and no more, were read
to the replying counsel as pleased the Abbe Dubois ; and
strongly accusing Cellamare and others ; protected as much as
possible her friends, her husband above all, by charging her-
self with all; by declaring that what she had done M. du
Maine had no knowledge of; and that its object went no fur-
ther than to obtain from the Regent such reforms in his admin-
istration as were wanted.

The Due du Maine, shorn of his rank and of his title of
prince of the blood, trembled for his life. His crimes against
the State — against the blood royal — against the person of the
Regent, so long, so artfully, and so cruelly offended, troubled
him all the more because he felt they deserved severe punish-
ment. He soon, therefore, conceived the idea of screening him-
self beneath his wife's petticoats. His replies, and all his ob-
servations were to the same tune ; perfect ignorance of every-
thing. Therefore when the duchess had made her confessions,
and they were communicated to him, he cried out against his
wife — her madness — her felony — his misfortune in having a
wife capable of conspiring, and daring enough to implicate him
in everything without having spoken to him ; making him thus
a criminal without being so the least in the world ; and keeping
him so ignorant of her doings, that it was out of his power to
stop them, to chide her, or inform M. le Due d'Orleans if things
had been pushed so far that he ought to have done so !

From that time the Due du Maine would no longer hear talk
of a woman who, without his knowledge, had cast him and his
children into this abyss ; and when at their release from prison,
they were permitted to write and send messages to each other,
he would receive nothing from her, or give any signs of life.
Madame du Maine, on her side, pretended to be afflicted at this
treatment; admitting, nevertheless, that she had acted wrong-
fully toward her husband in implicating him without his knowl-
edge in her schemes. They were at this point when they were
allowed to come near Paris. M, du Maine went to live at
Clagny, a chateau near Versailles, built for Madame de Montes-
pan. Madame du Maine went to Sceaux. They came sepa-
rately to see M. le Due d'Orleans at Paris, without sleeping
there; both played their parts, and as the Abbe Dubois judged
the time had come to take credit to himself in their eyes for

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 219

finishing their disgrace, he easily persuaded M. le Due d'Or-
leans to appear convinced of the innocence of M. du Maine.

During their stay in the two country houses above-named,
where they saw but httle company, Madame du Maine made
many attempts at reconcihation with her husband, which he
repelled. This farce lasted from the month of January (when
they arrived at Sceaux and at Clagny) to the end of July.
Then they thought the game had lasted long enough to be put
an end to. They had found themselves quit of all danger so
cheaply, and counted so much upon the Abbe Dubois, that they
were already thinking of returning to their former considera-
tions ; and to work at this usefully, they must be in a position
to see each other, and commence by establishing themselves in
Paris, where they would of necessity live together.

The sham rupture had been carried to this extent, that the
two sons of the Due du Maine returned from Eu to Clagny a
few days after him, did not for a long time go and see Madame
du Maine, and subsequently saw her but rarely, and without
sleeping under her roof.

At last the resolution being taken to put an end to the com-
edy, this is how it was terminated by another.

Madame la Princesse made an appointment with the Due du
Maine at Vaugirard on the last of July, and in the house of
Landais, treasurer of the artillery. She arrived there a little
after him with the Duchesse du Maine, whom she left in her
carriage. She said to M. du Maine she had brought a lady
with her who much desired to see him. The thing was not
difficult to understand ; the piece had been well studied. The
Duchesse du Maine was sent for. The apparent reconcilement
took place. The three were a long time together. To play
out the comedy, M. and Madame du Maine still kept apart,
but saw and approached each other by degrees, until at last
the former returned to Sceaux, and lived with his wife as
before.

To go back, now, to the remaining events of the year
1719.

The Marquise de Charlus, sister of Mezieres, and mother of
the Marquis de Levi, who has since become a duke and a peer,
died rich and old. She was the exact picture of an old-clothes
woman, and was thus subject to many insults from those who

220 SAINT-SIMON

did not know her, which she by no means relished. To reHeve
a Httle the seriousness of these memoirs, I will here relate an
amusing adventure of which she was heroine.

She was very avaricious, and a great gambler. She would
have passed the night up to her knees in water in order to
play. Heavy gambling at lansquenet was carried on at Paris
in the evening, at Madame la Princesse de Conti's. Madame
de Charlus supped there one Friday, between the games, much
company being present. She was no better clad than at other
times, and wore a head-dress, in vogue at that day, called
commode, not fastened, but put on or taken off like a wig or a
nightcap. It was fashionable, then, to wear these head-dresses
very high.

Madame de Charlus was near the Archbishop of Rheims, Le
Tellier. She took a boiled o^^g, that she cracked, and in reach-
ing for some salt, set her head-dress on fire, at a candle near,
without perceiving it. The archbishop, who saw her all in
flames, seized the head-dress and flung it upon the ground.
Madame de Charlus, in her surprise, and indignant at seeing
herself thus uncovered, without knowing why, threw her tgg
in the archbishop's face, and made him in a fine mess.

Nothing but laughter was heard ; and all the company were
in convulsions of mirth at the gray, dirty, and hoary head of
Madame de Charlus, and the archbishop's omelet ; above all,
at the fury and abuse of Madame de Charlus, who thought she
had been affronted, and who was a long time before she would
understand the cause, irritated at finding herself thus treated
before everybody. The head-dress was burned, Madame la
Princesse de Conti gave her another, but before it was on her
head everybody had time to contemplate her charms, and she to
grow in fury. Her husband died three months after her. M.
de Levi expected to find treasures ; there had been such ; but
they had taken wing and flown away.

About this time appeared some verses under the title of
" Philippiques," which were distributed with extraordinary
promptitude and abundance. La Grange, formerly page of
Madame la Princesse de Conti, was the author, and did not deny
it. All that hell could vomit forth, true and false, was ex-
pressed in the most beautiful verses, most poetic in style, and
with all the art and talent imaG:inable. ]\L le Due d'Orleans

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 221

knew it, and wished to see the poem, but he could not succeed
in getting it, for no one dared to show it to him.

He spoke of it several times to me, and at last demanded
with such earnestness that I should bring it to him, that I could
not refuse. I brought it to him accordingly, but read it to him
I declared I never would. He took it, therefore, and read it in
a low tone, standing in the window of his little winter cabinet,
where we were. He judged it in reading much as it was, for
he stopped from time to time to speak to me, and without ap-
pearing much moved. But all on a sudden I saw him change
countenance, and turn toward me, tears in his eyes, and him-
self ready to drop.

" Ah," said he, " this is too much, this horrible poem beats me
completely "

He was at the part where the scoundrel shows M. le Due
d'Orleans having the design to poison the King, and quite
ready to execute his crime. It is the part where the author
redoubles his energy, his poetry, his invocations, his terrible
and startling beauties, his invectives, his hideous pictures, his
touching portraits of the youth and innocence of the King, and
of the hopes he has, adjuring the nation to save so dear a victim
from the barbarity of a murderer ; in a word, all that is most
delicate, most tender, stringent, and blackest, most pompous,
and most moving, is there.

I wished to profit by the dejected silence into which the
reading of this poem had thrown M. le Due d'Orleans, to take
from him the execrable paper, but I could not succeed ; he
broke out into just complaints against such horrible wickedness,
and into tenderness for the King ; then finished his reading,
that he interrupted more than once to speak to me. I never
saw a man so penetrated, so deeply touched, so overwhelmed
with injustice so enormous and sustained. As for me, I could
not contain myself. To see him, the most prejudiced, if of good
faith, would have been convinced he was innocent of the crime
imputed to him, by the horror he displayed at it. T have said
all, when I state that I recovered myself witli difficulty, and
that I had all the pains in the world to compose him a little.

This La Grange, who was of no personal value, yet a good
poet — only that, and never anything else — had, by his poetry,
insinuated himself into Sceaux, where he had become one of

222 SAINT-SIMON

the great favorites of Madame du Maine. She and her husband
knew his Hfe, his habits, and his mercenary villany. They
knew, too, how to profit by it. He was arrested shortly after-
ward, and sent to the Isles of Sainte Marguerite, which he
obtained permission to leave before the end of the regency.
He had the audacity to show himself everywhere in Paris, and
while he was appearing at the theatres and in all public places,
people had the impudence to spread the report that M. le Due
d'Orleans had had him killed! M. le Due d'Orleans and his
enemies have been equally indefatigable ; the latter in the black-
est villanies, the prince in the most unfruitful clemency, to
call it by no more expressive name.

Before the Regent was called to the head of public affairs, I
recommended him to banish the Pere Tellier when he had the
power to do so. He did not act upon my advice, or only par-
tially; nevertheless, Tellier was disgraced, and after wander-
ing hither and thither, a very firebrand wherever he went, he
was confined by his superiors in La Fleche.

This tyrant of the Church, furious that he could no longer
move, which had been his sole consolation during the end of
his reign and his terrible domination, found himself at La
Fleche, reduced to a position as insupportable as it was nev/
to him.

The Jesuits, spies of each other, and jealous and envious of
those who have the superior authority, are marvellously un-
grateful toward those who, having occupied high posts, or
served the company with much labor and success, become use-
less to it, by their age or their infirmities. They regard them
with disdain, and instead of bestowing upon them the atten-
tion merited by their age, their services, and their merit, leave
them in the dreariest solitude, and begrudge them even their
food!

I have with my own eyes seen three examples of this in these
Jesuits, men of much piety and honor, who had filled positions
of confidence and of talent, and with whom I was very intimate.
The first had been rector of their establishment at Paris, was
distinguished by excellent works of piety, and was for several
years assistant of the general at Rome, at the death of whom
he returned to Paris ; because the rule is, that the new general
has new assistants. Upon his return to the Paris establishment

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 223

he was put into a garret, at the very top of the house, amid
solitude, contempt, and want.

The direction of the royal conscience had been the principal
occupation of the two others, one of whom had even been pro-
posed as confessor to Madame la Dauphine. One was long ill
of a malady he died of. He was not properly nourished, and I
sent him his dinner every day, for more than five months,
because I had seen his pittance. I sent him even remedies, for
he could not refrain from admitting to me that he suffered from
the treatment he was subjected to.

The third, very old and very infirm, had not a better fate.
At last, being no longer able to hold out, he asked to be allowed
to pay a visit to my Versailles house (after having explained
himself to me), under pretext of fresh air. He remained there
several months, and died at the novitiate in Paris. Such is the
fate of all the Jesuits, without excepting the most famous, put-
ting aside a few who having shone at the court and in the
world by their sermons and their merit, and having made many
friends — as the Peres Bordaloue, La Rue, Gaillard — have been
guaranteed from the general disgrace, because, often visited by
the principal persons of the court and the town, policy did not
permit them to be treated like the rest, for fear of making so
many considerable people notice what they would not have
suffered without disturbance and scandal.

It was, then, in this abandonment and this contempt that
Pere Tellier remained at La Fleche, although he had from the
Regent 4,000 livres pension. He had ill-treated everybody.
When he was confessor of the King, not one of his brethren
approached him without trembling, although most of them were
the big-wigs of the company. Even the general of the com-
pany was forced to bend beneath the despotism he exercised
upon all. There was not a Jesuit who did not disapprove the
violence of his conduct, or who did not fear it would injure
the society. All hated him, as a minister is hated who is coarse,
harsh, inaccessible, egotistical, and who takes pleasure in show-
ing his power and his disdain.

His exile, and the conduct that drew it upon him, were fresh
motives for hatred against him, unveiling, as they did, a num-
ber of secret intrigues he had been concerned in, and which he
had great interest in hiding. All these things together did not

224

SAINT-SIMON

render agreeable to Tellier his forced retirement at La Fleche.
He found there sharp superiors and equals, instead of the gen-
eral terror his presence had formerly caused among the Jesuits.
All now showed nothing but contempt for him, and took pleas-
ure in making him sensible of it. This king of the Church, in
part of the State, and in private of his society, became again
a common Jesuit like the rest, and under superiors ; it may be
imagined what a hell this was to a man so impetuous and so
accustomed to a domination without reply, and without bounds,
and abused in every fashion. Thus he did not endure it long.
Nothing more was heard of him, and he died after having been
only six months at La Fleche.

There was another death, which I may as well mention here,
as it occurred about the same time.

On Saturday evening, April 15, 17 19, the celebrated and
fatal Madame de Maintenon died at Saint Cyr. What a stir this
event would have made in Europe, had it happened a few
years earlier! It was scarcely mentioned in Paris!

I have already said so much respecting this woman, so un-
fortunately famous, that I will say but little more now. Her
life at Saint Cyr was divided between her spiritual duties, the
letters she received from her religious correspondents, and the
answers she gave to them. She took the communion twice
a week, ordinarily between seven and eight o'clock in the morn-
ing ; not, as Dangeau says in his " Memoires," at midnight
or every day. She was very rich, having 4,000 livres pension
per month from the Regent, besides other emoluments. She
had, too, her estate at Maintenon, and some other property.
With all this wealth, too, she had not a farthing of expense at
Saint Cyr. Everything was provided for herself and servants
and their horses, even wood, coals, and candles. She had noth-
ing to buy, except dress for herself and for her people. She
kept a steward, a valet, people for the horses and the kitchen, a
coach, seven or eight horses, one or two others for the saddle,
beside having the young ladies of Saint Cyr, chambermaids, and
Mademoiselle d'Aumale to wait upon her.

The fall of the Due du Maine at the Bed of Justice struck
the first blow at her. It is not too much to presume that she
was well informed of the measures and the designs of this
darling, and that this hope had sustained her; but when she

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 225

saw him arrested she succumbed ; continuous fever seized her,
and she died at eighty-three years of age, in the full possession
of all her intellect.

Regret for her loss, which was not even universal in Saint
Cyr, scarcely passed the walls of that community. Aubigny,
Archbishop of Rouen, her pretended cousin, was the only man
I ever heard of who was fool enough to die of grief on account
of it. But he was so afflicted by this loss that he fell ill, and
soon followed her.

Madame la Duchesse de Berry was living, as usual, amid the
loftiest pride, and the vilest servitude ; amid penitence the most
austere at the Carmelite convent of the Faubourg St. Germain,
and suppers the most profaned by vile company, filthiness,
and impiety ; amid the most shameless debauchery, and the
most horrible fear of the devil and death ; when lo ! she fell
ill at the Luxembourg.

I must disguise nothing more, especially as what I am
relating belongs to history ; and never in these memoirs have
I introduced details upon gallantry except such as were neces-
sary to the proper comprehension of important or interesting
matters to which they related. Madame la Duchesse de Berry
would constrain herself in nothing; she was indignant that
people would dare to speak of what she did not take the
trouble to hide from them ; and nevertheless she was grieved
to death that her conduct was known.

She was in the family-way by Rion, but hid it as much as she
could. Madame de Mouchy was their go-between, although
her conduct was as clear as day. Rion and Mouchy, in fact,
were in love with each other, and had innumerable facilities
for indulging their passion. They laughed at the princess,
who was their dupe, and from whom they drew in council
all they could. In one word, they were the masters of her
and of her household, and so insolently, that M. le Due and
Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans, who knew them and hated
them, feared them also and temporized with them. Madame
de Saint-Simon, sheltered from all that, extremely loved and
respected by all the household, and respected even by this
couple who made themselves so much dreaded and courted,
only saw Madame la Duchesse de Berry during the moments
of representation at the Luxembourg, whence she returned
15

226 SAINT-SIMON

as soon as all was finished, entirely ignorant of what was pass-
ing, though she might have been perfectly instructed.

The illness of Madame la Duchesse de Berry came on, and
this illness, ill prepared for by suppers washed down by wine
and strong liquors, became stormy and dangerous. Madame
de Saint-Simon could not avoid becoming assiduous in her
attendance as soon as the peril appeared, but she never would
yield to the instances of M. le Due and Madame la Duchesse
d'Orleans, who, with all the household, wished her to sleep
in the chamber allotted to her, and which she never put foot
in, not even during the day. She found Madame la Duchesse
de Berry shut up in a little chamber, which had private en-
trances— very useful just then, with no one near her but La
Mouchy and Rion, and a few trusty waiting-women. All in
attendance had free entrance to this room. M. le Due and
Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans were not allowed to enter when
they liked ; of course it was the same with the lady of honor,
the other ladies, the chief fcmme de chambre, and the doctors.
All entered from time to time, but ringing for an instant. A
bad headache or want of sleep caused them often to be asked
to stay away, or, if they entered, to leave directly afterward.
They did not press their presence upon the sick woman, know-
ing only too well the nature of her malady; but contented
themselves by asking after her through Madame de Mouchy,
who opened the door to reply to them, keeping it scarcely ajar.
This ridiculous proceeding passed before the crowd of the
Luxembourg, of the Palais Royal, and of many other people
who, for form's sake or for curiosity, came to inquire the news,
and became common town-talk.

The danger increasing, Languet, a celebrated cure of Saint
Sulpice, who had always rendered himself assiduous, spoke
of the sacraments to M. le Due d'Orleans. The difificulty was
how to enter and propose them to Madame la Duchesse de
Berry. But another and greater difficulty soon appeared. It
was this : the cure, like a man knowing his duty, refused to
administer the sacrament, or to suffer it to be administered,
while Rion or Madame de Mouchy remained in the chamber,
or even in the Luxembourg !

He declared this aloud before everybody, expressly in pres-
ence of M. le Due d'Orleans, who was less shocked than em-

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 227

barrassed. He took the cure aside, and for a long time tried
to make him give way. Seeing him inflexible, he proposed
reference to the Cardinal de Noailles. The cure immediately
agreed, and promised to defer to his orders, Noailles being his
bishop, provided he was allowed to explain his reasons. The
affair passed, and Madame la Duchesse de Berry made confes-
sion to a Cordelier, her confessor. M. le Due d'Orleans flat-
tered himself, no doubt, he would find the diocesan more
flexible than the cure. If he hoped so he deceived himself.

The Cardinal de Noailles arrived ; M. le Due d'Orleans took
him aside with the cure, and their conversation lasted more
than half an hour. As the declaration of the cure had been
public, the Cardinal Archbishop of Paris judged it fitting that
his should be so also. As all three approached the door of the
chamber filled with company, the Cardinal de Noailles said
aloud to the cure, that he had very worthily done his duty,
that he expected nothing less from such a good, experienced,
and enlightened man as he was ; that he praised him for what
he had demanded before administering the sacrament to Ma-
dame la Duchesse de Berry ; that he exhorted him not to give
in, or to suffer himself to be deceived upon so important a
thing; and that if he wanted further authorization he, as his
bishop, diocesan, and superior, prohibited him from admin-
istering the sacraments, or allowing them to be administered,
to Madame la Duchesse de Berry while Rion and Madame de
Mouchy were in the chamber, or even in the Luxembourg.

It may be imagined what a stir such inevitable scandal as
this made in a room so full of company ; what embarrassment
it caused M. le Due d'Orleans, and what a noise it immediately
made everywhere. Nobody, even the chiefs of the constitu-
tion, the mass without, enemies of the Cardinal de Noailles, the
most fashionable bishops, the most distinguished women, the
libertines even — not one blamed the cure or his archbishop:
some because they knew the rules of the Church, and did not
dare to impugn them ; others, the majority, from horror of the
conduct of Madame la Duchesse de Berry, and hatred drawn
upon her by her pride.

Now came the question between the Regent, the cardinal,
and cure, which should announce this determination to Madame
la Duchesse de Berry, who in no way expected it, and who,

228 SAINT-SIMON

having confessed, expected every moment to see the holy
sacrament enter, and to take it. After a short colloquy urged
on by the state of the patient, the cardinal and the cure with-
drew a little, while M. le Due d'Orleans slightly opened the
door and called Madame de Mouchy. Then, the door ajar, she
within, he without, he told her what was in debate. La
Mouchy, much astonished, still more annoyed, rode the high
horse, talked of her merit, and of the affront that bigots wished
to cast upon her and JMadame la Duchesse de Berry, who would
never suffer it or consent to it, and that she would die — in the
state she was — if they had the impudence and the cruelty to
tell it to her.

The conclusion was that La Mouchy undertook to announce
to Madame la Duchesse de Berry the resolution that had been
taken respecting the sacraments : what she added of her own
may be imagined. A negative response did not fail to be
quickly delivered to M. le Due d'Orleans through the half-
opened door. Coming through such a messenger, it was just
the reply he might have expected. Immediately after, he re-
peated it to the cardinal, and to the cure ; the cure being sup-
ported by his archbishop, contented himself with shrugging
his shoulders. But the cardinal said to M. le Due d'Orleans
that Madame de Mouchy, one of the two who ought to be sent
away, was not a fit person to bring Madame la Duchesse to
reason ; that it was his duty to carry this message to her, and
to exhort her to do her duty as a Christian shortly about to
appear before God ; and the archbishop pressed the Regent to
go and say so to her. It will be believed, without difficulty,
that his eloquence gained nothing. This prince feared too
much his daughter, and would have been but a feeble apostle
with her.

Reiterated refusals determined the cardinal to go and speak
to Madame la Duchesse de Berry, accompanied by the cure,
and as he wished to set about it at once, M. le Due d'Orleans,
who did not dare to hinder him, but who feared some sudden
and dangerous revolution in his daughter at the sight and at
the discourses of the two pastors, conjured him to wait until
preparations could be made to receive him. He went, there-
fore, and held another colloquy through the door with Madame
de Mouchy, the success of which was equal to the other.

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 229

Madame la Duchesse de Berry flew into fury, railed in unruly
terms against these hypocritical humbugs, who took advantage
of her state and their calling to dishonor her by an unheard-of
scandal, not in the least sparing her father for his stupidity
and feebleness in allowing it. To have heard her, you would
have thought that the cure and the cardinal ought to be kicked
downstairs.

M. le Due d'Orleans returned to the ecclesiastics, looking
very small, and not knowing what to do between his daughter
and them. However, he said to them that she was so weak
and suffering that they must put off their visit, persuading them
as well as he could. The attention and anxiety of the large
company which filled the room were extreme : everything was
known afterward, bit by bit, during the day.

The Cardinal de Noailles remained more than tw^o hours
with M. le Due d'Orleans, round whom people gathered at last.
The cardinal, seeing that he could not enter the chamber
without a sort of violence, much opposed to persuasion, thought
it indecent and useless to wait any longer. In going away, he
reiterated his orders to the cure, and begged him to watch so
as not to be deceived respecting the sacraments, lest attempts
were made to administer them clandestinely. He afterward
approached Madame de Saint-Simon, took her aside, related to
her what had passed, and deplored with her a scandal that he
had not been able to avoid. M. le Due d'Orleans hastened to
announce to his daughter the departure of the cardinal, at
which he himself was much relieved. But on leaving the
chamber he was astonished to find the cure glued against the
door, and still more so to hear that he had taken up his post
there, and meant to remain, happen what might, because he
did not wish to be deceived respecting the sacraments. And,
indeed, he remained there four days and four nights, except
during short intervals for food and repose that he took at
home, quite close to the Luxembourg, and during which his
place was filled by two priests whom he left there. At last,
the danger being passed, he raised the siege.

Madame la Duchesse de Berry, safely delivered of a daugh-
ter, had nothing to do but to re-establish herself; but she re-
mained firm against the cure and the Cardinal de Noailles,
neither of whom she ever pardoned. She became more and

230 SAINT-SIMON

more bewitched by the two lovers, who laughed at her, and
who were attached to her only for their fortune and their in-
terest. She remained shut up without seeing M. and Madame
la Duchesse d'Orleans, except for a few moments : no one,
commencing with Madame de Saint-Simon, showed any eager-
ness to see her, for everybody knew what kept the door shut,

Madame la Duchesse de Berry, infinitely pained by the man-
ner in which everybody, even the people, looked upon her
malady, thought to gain a little lost ground by throwing open
the gardens of the Luxembourg to the public, after having
long since closed them. People were glad ; they profited by
the act ; that was all. She made a vow that she would give
herself up to religion, and dress in white — that is, devote her-
self to the service of the Virgin — for six months. This vow
made people laugh a little.

Her illness had begun on March 29, 1719, and Easter day
fell on the ninth of April. She was then quite well, but would
not see a soul. A new cause of annoyance had arisen to
trouble her. Rion, w^ho saw himself so successful as the lover
of Madame la Duchesse de Berry, wished to improve his posi-
tion by becoming her husband. He was encouraged in this
desire by his uncle, M. de Lauzun, who had also advised him
to treat her with the rigor, harshness — nay, brutality, which
I have already described. The maxim of M. de Lauzun was,
that the Bourbons must be ill-used and treated with a high
hand in order to maintain empire over them. Madame de
Mouchy was as strongly in favor of this marriage as Rion.
She knew she was sure of her. lover, and that when he became
the husband of Madame la Duchesse de Berry, all the doors
which shut intimacy would be thrown down. A secret mar-
riage accordingly took place.

This marriage gave rise to violent quarrels, and much weep-
ing. In order to deliver herself from these annoyances, and
at the same time steer clear of Easter, the duchess resolved
to go away to Meudon on Easter Monday. It was in vain
that the danger was represented to her, of the air, of the move-
ment of the coach, and of the change of place at the end of a
fortnight. Nothing could make her endure Paris any longer.
She set out, therefore, followed by Rion and the majority of
her ladies and her household.

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 231

M. le Due d'Orleans informed me then of the fixed design
of Madame la Duchesse de Berry to declare the secret marriage
she had just made with Rion. Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans
was at Montmartre for a few days, and we were walking in
the little garden of her apartments. The marriage did not
surprise me much, knowing the strength of her passion, her
fear of the devil, and the scandal which had just happened.
But I was astonished, to the last degree, at this furious desire
to declare the marriage, in a person so superbly proud.

M. le Due d'Orleans dilated upon his troubles, his anger, that
of Madame (who wished to proceed to the most violent ex-
tremities), and the great resolve of Madame la Duchesse d'Or-
leans. Fortunately the majority of the officers destined to
serve against Spain (war with that country had just been de-
clared) were leaving every day, and Rion had remained solely
on account of the illness of Madame la Duchesse de Berry. M.
le Due d'Orleans thought the shortest plan would be to en-
courage hope by delay, in forcing Rion to depart, flattering
himself that the declaration would be put off much more
easily in his absence than in his presence. I strongly approved
this idea, and on the morrow, Rion received at Meudon a curt
and positive order to depart at once and join his regiment in
the army of the Due de Berwick. Madame la Duchesse de
Berry was all the more outraged, because she knew the cause
of this order, and consequently felt her inability to hinder its
execution. Rion on his side did not dare to disobey it. He
set out, therefore ; and M. le Due d'Orleans, who had not yet
been to Meudon, remained several days without going there.

Father and daughter feared each other, and this departure
had not put them on better terms. She had told him, and re-
peated it, that she was a rich widow, mistress of her own
actions, independent of him; had flown into a fury, and terri-
bly abused M. le Due d'Orleans when he tried to remonstrate
with her. He had received much rough handling from her at
the Luxembourg when she was better; it was the same at
Meudon during the few visits he paid her there. She wished
to declare her marriage ; and all the art, intellect, gentleness,
anger, menace, prayers, and interest of M. le Due d'Orleans
barely sufficed to make her consent to a brief delay.

If Madame had been listened to, the affair would have been

232

SAINT-SIMON

finished before the journey to Meudon ; for M. le Due d'Orleans
would have thrown Rion out of the windows of the Luxem-
bourg !

The premature journey to Meudon, and quarrels so warm,
were not calculated to re-establish a person just returned from
the gates of death. The extreme desire she had to hide her
state from the public, and to conceal the terms on which she
was with her father (for the rarity of his visits to her began
to be remarked), induced her to give a supper to him on the
terrace of Meudon about eight o'clock one evening. In vain
the danger was represented to her of the cool evening air so
soon after an illness such as she had just suffered from, and
which had left her health still tottering. It was specially on
this account that she stuck more obstinately to her supper on
the terrace, thinking that it would take away all suspicion she
had been confined, and induce the belief that she was on the
same terms as ever with M. le Due d'Orleans, though the un-
common rarity of his visits to her had been remarked.

This supper in the open air did not succeed. The same
night she was taken ill. She was attacked by accidents, caused
by the state in which she still was, and by an irregular fever,
that the opposition she met with respecting the declaration
of her marriage did not contribute to diminish. She grew
disgusted with Meudon, like people ill in body and mind, who
in their grief attribute everything to the air and the place.
She was annoyed at the few visits she received from M. le
Due and Aladame la Duchesse d'Orleans — her pride, how-
ever, suiTering more than her tenderness.

In despite of all reason, nothing could hinder her from
changing her abode. She was transferred from Meudon to
the Muette, wrapped up in sheets, and in a large coach, on
Sunday, May 14, 1719. Arrived so near Paris, she hoped M.
le Due and Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans would come and see
her more frequently, if only for form's sake.

This journey was painful by the sufferings it caused her,
added to those she already had, which no remedies could
appease, except for short intervals, and which became very
violent. Her illness augmented ; but hopes and fears sustained
her until the commencement of July. During all this time
her desire to declare her marriage weakened, and M. le Due

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 233

and Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans, as well as Madame, who
passed the summer at Saint Cloud, came more frequently to
see her. The month of July became more menacing because
of the augmentation of pain and fever. These ills increased
so much, in fact, that, by July 14th, fears for her life began
to be felt.

The night of the fourteenth was so stormy, that M. le Due
d'Orleans was sent to at the Palais Royal, and awakened. At
the same time Madame de Pons wrote to Madame de Saint-
Simon, pressing her to come and establish herself at the Muette.
Madame de Saint-Simon, although she made a point of scarcely
ever sleeping under the same roof as Madame la Duchesse de
Berry (for reasons which need no further explanation than
those already given), complied at once with this request, and
took up her quarters from this time at La Muette.

Upon arriving, she found the danger great. Madame la
Duchesse de Berry had been bled in the arm and in the foot on
the tenth, and her confessor had been sent for. But the mal-
ady still went on increasing. As the pain which had so long
afflicted her could not induce her to follow a regimen necessary
for her condition, or to think of a future state, relations and
doctors were at last obliged to speak a language to her, not used
toward princesses, except at the most urgent extremity. This,
at last, had its effect. She submitted to the medical treatment
prescribed for her, and received the sacrament with open doors,
speaking to those present upon her life and upon her state,
but like a queen in both instances. After this sight was over,
alone with her familiars, she applauded herself for the firm-
ness she had displayed, asked them if she had not spoken well,
and if she was not dying with greatness and courage.

A day or two after, she wished to receive Our Lord once
more. She received, accordingly, and as it appeared, with
much piety, quite differently from the first time.

At the extremity to which she had arrived, the doctors knew
not what to do ; everybody was tried. An elixir was spoken
of, discovered by a certain Garus, which made much stir just
then, and the secret of which the King has since bought.
Garus was sent for and soon arrived. He found Madame la
Duchesse de Berry so ill that he would answer for nothing.
His remedy was given, and succeeded beyond all hopes. Noth-

234 SAINT-SIMON

ing remained but to continue it. Above all things, Garus
had begged that nothing should, on any account, be given to
Madame la Duchesse de Berry except by him, and this had
been most expressly commanded by M. le Due and Madame la
Duchesse d'Orleans. Madame la Duchesse de Berry continued
to be more and more relieved and so restored, that Chirac, her
regular doctor, began to fear for his reputation, and taking the
opportunity when Garus was asleep upon a sofa, presented,
with impetuosity, a purgative to Madame la Duchesse de
Berry, and made her swallow it without saying a word to any-
body, the two nurses standing by, the only persons present,
not daring to oppose him.

The audacity of this was as complete as its villany, for M. le
Due and Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans were close at hand
in the saloon. From this moment to that in which the patient
fell into a state worse than that from which the elixir had
drawn her, there was scarcely an interval. Garus was awaked
and called. Seeing this disorder, he cried that a purgative had
been given, and whatever it might be, it was poison in the
state to which the princess was now reduced. He wished to
depart, he was detained, he was taken to Madame la Duchesse
d'Orleans. Then followed a great uproar, cries from Garus,
impudence and unequalled hardihood of Chirac, in defending
what he had done.

He could not deny it, for the two nurses had been questioned,
and had told all. Madame la Duchesse de Berry drew near her
end during this debate, and neither Chirac nor Garus could
prevent it. She lasted, however, the rest of the day, and did
not die until about midnight. Chirac seeing the death agony
advance, traversed the chamber, made an insulting reverence
at the foot of the bed, which was open, and wished her " a
pleasant journey " (in equivalent terms), and thereupon went
ofT to Paris. The marvel is that nothing came of this, and that
he remained the doctor of M. le Due d'Orleans as before.

While the end was yet approaching, Madame de Saint-
Simon, seeing that there was no one to bear M. le Due d'Or-
leans company, sent for me to stand by him in these sad mo-
ments. It appeared to me that my arrival pleased him, and
that I was not altogether useless to him in relieving his grief.
The rest of the day was passed in entering for a moment at a

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 235

time into the sick chamber. In the evening I was nearly
always alone with him.

He wished that I should charge myself with all the funeral
arrangements, and in case Madame la Duchesse de Berry,
when opened, should be found to be enceinte, to see that the
secret was kept. I proposed that the funeral should be of the
simplest, without show or ceremonial. I explained my reasons,
he thanked me, and left all the orders in my hands. Getting
rid of these gloomy matters as quickly as possible, I walked
with him from time to time in the reception rooms, and in the
garden, keeping him from the chamber of the dying as much as
possible.

The night was well advanced, and Madame la Duchesse de
Berry grew worse and worse, and without consciousness since
Chirac had poisoned her. M. le Due d'Orleans returned into
the chamber, approached the head of the bed — all the curtains
being pulled back ; I allowed him to remain there but a few
moments, and hurried him into the cabinet, which was deserted
just then. The windows were open, he leaned upon the iron
balustrade, and his tears increased so much that I feared lest
they should suffocate him. When this attack had a little sub-
sided, he began to talk of the misfortunes of this world, and of
the short duration of its most agreeable pleasures. I urged the
occasion to say to him everything God gave me the power to
say, with all the gentleness, emotion, and tenderness, I could
command. Not only he received well what I said to him, but
he replied to it and prolonged the conversation.

After we had been there more than an hour, Madame de
Saint-Simon gently warned me that it was time to try and lead
M. le Due d'Orleans away, especially as there was no exit from
the cabinet, except through the sick chamber. His coach, that
Madame de Saint-Simon had sent for, was ready. It was with-
out difficulty that I succeeded in gently moving away M. le
Due d'Orleans, plunged as he was in the most bitter grief. I
made him traverse the chamber at once, and supplicated him
to return to Paris. At last he consented. He wished me to
remain and give orders, and begged, with much positiveness,
Madame de Saint-Simon to be present when seals were put
upon the effects, after which I led him to his coach, and he
went away. I immediately repeated to Madame de Saint-

236 SAINT-SIMON

Simon the orders he had given me respecting the opening of
the body ; in order that she might have them executed, and I
hindered her from remaining in the chamber, where there was
nothing now but horror to be seen.

At last, about midnight, on July 21, 1719, Madame la
Duchesse de Berry died, ten days after Chirac had consum-
mated his crime. M. le Due d'Orleans was the only person
touched. Some people grieved ; but not one of them who had
enough to live upon appeared ever to regret her loss. Madame
la Duchesse d'Orleans felt her deliverance, but paid every
attention to decorum. Madame constrained herself but little.
However affected M. le Due d'Orleans might be, consolation
soon came. The yoke to which he had submitted himself, and
which he afterward found heavy, was severed. Above all, he
was free from all annoyance on the score of Rion's marriage,
and its results, annoyance that would have been all the greater,
inasmuch as at the opening of the poor princess she was found
to be again enceinte; it was also found that her brain was de-
ranged. These circumstances were for the time carefully
hidden. It may be imagined what a state Rion fell into in
learning at the army the death of Madame la Duchesse de
Berry. All his romantic notions of ambition being overturned,
he was more than once on the point of killing himself, and for
a long time was always kept in sight by his friends. He sold
out at the end of the campaign. As he had been gentle and
polite to his friends, they did not desert him. But he ever
afterward remained in obscurity.

On account of this death the theatres were closed for eight
days.

On Saturday, July 22, the heart of Madame la Duchesse de
Berry was taken to the Val-de-Grace.

On Sunday, July 23, her body was carried in an eight-horse
coach to Saint Denis. There was very little display ; only
about forty torches were carried by pages and guards.

The funeral service was performed at Saint Denis in the
early part of September. There was no funeral oration.

Madame de Saint-Simon had been forced, as I have shown,
to accept the post of lady of honor to IMadame la Duchesse de
Berry, and had never been able to quit it. She had been
treated with all sorts of consideration, had been allowed every

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 237

liberty, but this did not console her for the post she occupied ;
so that she felt all the pleasure, not to say the satisfaction, of a
deliverance she did not expect, from a princess twenty-four
years of age. But the extreme fatigue of the last days of the
illness, and of those which followed death, caused her a malig-
nant fever, which left her at death's portal during six weeks
in a house at Passy. She was two months recovering herself.

This accident, which almost turned my head, sequestered me
from anything for two months, during which I never left the
house, scarcely left the sick chamber, attended to nothing, and
saw only a few relatives or indispensable friends.

When my wife began to be re-established, I asked M. le Due
d'Orleans for a lodging at the new chateau at Meudon. He
lent me the whole chateau, completely furnished. We passed
there the rest of this summer, and several other summers after-
ward. It is a charming place for rides or drives. We counted
upon seeing only our friends there, but the proximity to Paris
overwhelmed us with people, so that all the new chateau was
sometimes completely filled, without reckoning the people of
passage.

I have little need to say anything more of Madame la
Duchesse de Berry. These pages have already painted her.
She was a strange mixture of pride and shamelessness. Drunk-
enness, filthy conversation, debauchery of the vilest kind, and
impiety, were her diversions, varied, as has been seen, by
occasional religious fits. Her indecency in everything, lan-
guage, acts, behavior, passed all bounds ; and yet her pride
was so sublime that she could not endure that people should
dare to speak of her amid her depravity, so universal and so
public ; she had the hardihood to declare that nobody had
the right to speak of persons of her rank, or blame their most
notorious actions.

Yet she had by nature a superior intellect, and, when she
wished, could be agreeable and amiable. Her face was com-
manding, though somewhat spoiled at last by fat. She had
much eloquence, speaking with an ease and precision that
charmed and overpowered. What might she not have become,
with the talents she possessed! But her pride, her violent
temper, her irreligion, and her falsehood, spoiled all, and made
her what we have seen her.

238 SAINT-SIMON

Law had established his Mississippi Company, and now be-
gan to do marvels with it. A sort of language had been in-
vented, to talk of this scheme, language which, however, I
shall no more undertake to explain than the other finance
operations. Everybody was mad upon Mississippi stock. Im-
mense fortunes were made, almost in a breath ; Law, besieged
in his house by eager applicants, saw people force open his
door, enter by the windows from the garden, drop into his
cabinet down the chimney ! People talked only of millions !

Law, who, as I have said, came to my house every Tuesday,
between eleven and twelve, often pressed me to receive some
shares for nothing, offering to manage them without any trouble
to me, so that I must gain to the amount of several millions !
So many people had already gained enormously by their own^
exertions that it was not doubtful Law could gain for me even
more rapidly. But I never would lend myself to it. Law ad-
dressed himself to Madame de Saint-Simon, whom he found
as inflexible. He would have much preferred to enrich me
than many others ; so as to attach me to him by interest,
intimate as he saw me with the Regent. He spoke to M. le
Due d'Orleans, even, so as to vanquish me by his authority.
The Regent attacked me more than once, but I always eluded
him.

At last, one day when we were together by appointment, at
Saint Cloud, seated upon the balustrade of the orangery, which
covers the descent into the wood of the goiilottes, the Regent
spoke again to me of the Mississippi, and pressed me to receive
some shares from Law.

The more I resisted, the more he pressed me, and argued ; at
last he grew angry, and said that I was too conceited, thus to
refuse what the King wished to give me (for everything was
done in the King's name), while so many of my equals in rank
and dignity were running after these shares. I replied that
such conduct would be that of a fool, the conduct of im-
pertinence, rather than of conceit ; that it was not mine, and
that since he pressed me so much I would tell him my reasons.
They were, that since the fable of Midas, I had nowhere read,
still less seen, that anybody had the faculty of converting into
gold all he touched ; that I did not believe this virtue was
given to Law, but thought that all his knowledge was a learned

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV

239

trick, a new and skilful juggle, which put the wealth of Peter
into the pockets of Paul, and which enriched one at the ex-
pense of the other; that sooner or later the game would be
played out, that an infinity of people would be ruined ; finally,
that I abhorred to gain at the expense of others, and would in
no way mix myself up with the Mississippi scheme.

M. le Due d'Orleans knew only too well how to reply to
me, always returning to his idea that I was refusing the boun-
ties of the King. I said that I was so removed from such
madness, that I would make a proposition to him, of which
assuredly I should never have spoken but for his accu-
sation.

I related to him the expense to which my father had been
put in defending Blaye against the party of M. le Prince in
years gone. How he had paid the garrison, furnished pro-
visions, cast cannon, stocked the place, during a blockade of
eighteen months, and kept up, at his own expense, within the
town, 500 gentlemen, whom he had collected together. How
he had been almost ruined by the undertaking, and had never
received a sou, except in warrants to the amount of 500,000
livres, of which not one had ever been paid, and that he had
been compelled to pay yearly the interest of the debts he had
contracted, debts that still hung like a millstone upon me. My
proposition was — that M. le Due d'Orleans should indemnify
me for this loss, I giving up the warrants, to be burned before
him.

This he at once agreed to. He spoke of it the very next day
to Law : my warrants were burned by degrees in the cabinet
of M. le Due d'Orleans, and it was by this means I paid for
what I had done at La Ferte.

Meanwhile the Mississippi scheme went on more swim-
mingly than ever. It was established in the Rue Quincampoix,
from which horses and coaches were banished. About the end
of October of this year, 1717, its business so much increased,
that the office was thronged all day long, and it was found
necessary to place clocks and guards with drums at each end
of the street, to inform people, at seven o'clock in the morning,
of the opening of business, and of its close at night : fresh
announcements were issued, too, prohibiting people from going
there on Sundays and fete days.

240 SAINT-SIMON

Never had excitement or madness been heard of which ap-
proached this.

M. le Due d'Orleans distributed a large number of the com-
pany's shares to all the general officers and others employed in
the war against Spain. A month after, the value of the specie
was diminished ; then the whole of the coin was recast.

Money was in such abundance — that is to say, the notes of
Law, preferred then to the metallic currency — that four millions
were paid to Bavaria, and three millions to Sweden, in settle-
ment of old debts. Shortly after, M. le Due d'Orleans gave
80,000 livres to Meuse, and 80,000 livres to Madame de
Chateauthiers, dame d'atours of Madame. The Abbe Alari,
too, obtained 2,000 livres pension. Various other people had
augmentation of income given to them at this time.

Day by day Law's bank and his Mississippi increased in
favor. The confidence in them was complete. People could
not change their lands and their houses into paper fast enough,
and the result of this paper was, that everything became dear
beyond all previous experience. All heads were turned.
Foreigners envied our good fortune, and left nothing undone
to have a share in it. The English, even, so clear and so learned
in banks, in companies, in commerce, allowed themselves to be
caught, and bitterly repented it afterward. Law, although
cold and discreet, felt his modesty giving way. He grew tired
of being a subaltern. He hankered after greatness in the midst
of this splendor; the Abbe Dubois and M. le Due d'Orleans
desired it for him more than he ; nevertheless, two formidable
obstacles were in the way : Law was a foreigner and a heretic,
and he could not be naturalized without a preliminary act of
abjuration. To perform that, somebody must be found to con-
vert him, somebody upon whom good reliance could be placed.
The Abbe Dubois had such a person all ready in his pocket, so
to speak. The Abbe Tencin was the name of this ecclesiastic,
a fellow of debauched habits and shameless life, whom the devil
has since pushed into the most astonishing good fortune ; so
true it is that he sometimes departs from bis ordinary rules, in
order to recompense his servitors, and by these striking ex-
amples dazzle others, and so secure them.

As may be imagined. Law did not feel very proud of the
abbe who had converted him: more especially as that same

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 241

abbe was just about this time publicly convicted of simony, of
deliberate fraud, of right-down lying (proved by his own hand-
writing), and was condemned by the Parliament to pay a fine,
which branded him with infamy, and which was the scandal
of the whole town. Law, however, was converted, and this
was a subject which supplied all conversation.

Soon after he bought, for 1,000,000 livres, the Hotel Mazarin
for his bank, which until then had been established in a
house he hired of the chief president, who had not need of
it, being very magnificently lodged in the Palace of the Par-
liament by virtue of his office. Law bought, at the same time,
for 550,000 livres, the house of the Comte de Tesse.

Yet it was not all sunshine with this famous foreigner, for
the sky above him was heavy with threatening clouds. In
the midst of the flourishing success of his Mississippi, it was
discovered that there was a plot to kill him. Thereupon sixteen
soldiers of the regiment of the Guards were given to him as a
protection to his house, and eight to his brother, who had
come to Paris some little time before.

Law had other enemies beside those who were hidden. He
could not get on well with Argenson, who, as comptroller of
the finances, was continually thrown into connection with him.
The disorder of the finances increased in consequence every
day, as well as the quarrels between Law and Argenson, who
each laid the blame upon the other. The Scotchman was the
best supported, for his manners were pleasing, and his willing-
ness to oblige infinite. He had, as it were, a finance tap in
his hand, and he turned it on for everyone who helped him.
M. le Due, Madame la Duchesse, Tesse, Madame de Verue,
had drawn many millions through this tap, and drew still. The
Abbe Dubois turned it on as he pleased. These were grand
supports, beside that of M. le Due d'Orleans, who could not
part with his favorite.

Argenson, on the contrary, was not much liked. He had
been at the head of the police so long that he could not shake
off the habits he had acquired in that position. He had been
accustomed to give audiences upon all sorts of police matters
at dead of night, or at the small hours of the morning, and he
appeared to see no reason why he should not do the same now
that he was keeper of the seals. He irritated people beyond
16

242 SAINT-SIMON

all bearing, by making appointments with them at these un-
reasonable hours, and threw into despair all who worked under
him, or who had business with him. The difficulty of the
finances, and his struggles with Law, had thrown him into ill-
humor, which extended through all his refusals. Things, in
fact, had come to such a pass, that it was evident one or the
other must give up an administration which their rivalry threw
into confusion.

Argenson saw the storm coming, and feeling the insecurity
of his position, wished to save himself. He had too much
sense and too much knowledge of the world not to feel that if
he obstinately clung to the finances he should not only lose
them but the seals also. He yielded therefore to Law, who
was at last declared comptroller-general of the finances, and
who, elevated to this (for him) surprising point, continued to
visit me as usual every Tuesday morning, always trying to
persuade me into belief of his past miracles, and of those to
come.

Argenson remained keeper of the seals, and skilfully turned
to account the sacrifice he had made by obtaining through it
the permission to surrender his appointment of chancellor of
the Order of Saint Louis to his eldest son, and the title, effec-
tively, to his younger son. His place of conseillcr d'etat, that
he had retained, he also gave to his eldest son, and made the
other lieutenant of police. The murmur was great upon seeing
a foreigner comptroller-general, and all abandoned to a finance
system, which already had begun to be mistrusted. But
Frenchmen grow accustomed to everything, and the majority
were consoled by being no longer exposed to the sharp humor
of Argenson, or his strange hours of business.

But Law's annoyances were not over when this change had
been made. M. le Prince de Conti began to be troublesome.
He was more grasping than any of his relatives, and that is
not saying a little. He accosted Law now, pistol in hand, so
to speak, and with a perfect " money or your life " manner. He
had already amassed mountains of gold by the easy humor of
M. le Due d'Orleans ; he had drawn, too, a good deal from Law,
in private. Not content with this, he wished to draw more.
M. le Due d'Orleans grew tired, and was not overpleascd with
him. The Parliament just then was at its tricks again; its

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 243

plots began to peep out, and the Prince de Conti joined in its
intrigues in order to try and play a part indecent, considering
his birth ; little fitting his age ; shameful, after the monstrous
favors unceasingly heaped upon him.

Repelled by the Regent, he turned, as I have said, toward
Law, hoping for more success. His expectations were de-
ceived ; prayers, cringing meanness (for he stopped at nothing
to get money) being of no efifect, he tried main strength, and
spared Law neither abuse nor menaces. In fact, not knowing
what else to do to injure his bank, he sent three wagons there,
and drove them away full of money, which he made Law give
him for paper he held. Law did not dare to refuse, and thus
show the poverty of his metallic funds, but fearing to accustom
so unsatiable a prince to such tyranny as this, he went, directly
the wagons left, to M. le Due d'Orleans, and complained of
what had occurred. The Regent was much annoyed ; he saw
the dangerous results, and the pernicious example of so vio-
lent a proceeding, directed against an unsupported foreigner,
whom rather lightly he had just made comptroller-general. He
flew into a violent rage, sent for the Prince de Conti, and, con-
trary to his nature, reprimanded him so severely, that he was
silenced and cried for mercy. But annoyed at having failed,
and still more at the sharp scolding he had received, the Prince
de Conti consoled himself, like a woman, by spreading all sorts
of reports against Law, which caused him but little fear, and did
him still less harm, but which did slight honor to M. le Prince
de Conti, because the cause of these reports, and also the large
sums he had drawn from the financier, were not unknown to
the public ; blame upon him was general, and all the more
heavy, because Law had fallen out of public favor, which a
mere trifle had changed into spite and indignation.

This is the trifle. The Marechal de Villeroy, incapable of
inspiring the King with any solid ideas, adoring even to wor-
ship the deceased King, full of wind, and lightness, and fri-
volity, and of sweet recollections of his early years, his grace at
fetes and ballets, his splendid gallantries, wished that the King
in imitation of his deceased monarch, should dance in a ballet.
It was a little too early to think of this. This pleasure seemed
a trifle too much of pain to so young a King; his timidity
should have been vanquished by degrees, in order to accustom

244 SAINT-SIMON

him to society which he feared, before engaging him to show
himself off in public, and dance upon a stage.

The deceased King — educated in a brilliant court, where
rule and grandeur were kept up with much distinction, and
where continual intercourse with ladies, the Queen-mother, and
others of the court, had early fashioned and emboldened him,
— had relished and excelled in these sorts of fetes and amuse-
ments, amid a crowd of young people of both sexes, who all
rightfully bore the names of nobility, and among whom scarcely
any of humble birth were mixed, for we cannot call thus
some three or four of coarser stuff, who were admitted simply
for the purpose of adding strength and beauty to the ballet,
by the grace of their faces and the elegance of their movements,
with a few dancing-masters to regulate and give the tone
to the whole. Between this time and that I am now speaking
of was an abyss. The education of those days instructed every
one in grace, address, exercise, respect for bearing, graduated
and delicate politeness, polished and decent gallantry. The
difference, then, between the two periods is seen at a glance,
without time lost in pointing it out.

Reflection was not the principal virtue of the Marechal de
Villeroy. He thought of no obstacle either on the part of the
King or elsewhere, and declared that his Majesty would dance
in a ballet. Everything was soon ready for the execution. It
was not so with the action. It became necessary to search for
young people who could dance : soon, whether they danced ill
or well, they were gladly received ; at last the onlv question
was, " Whom can we get? " consequently a sorry lot was ob-
tained. Several, who ought never to have been admitted, were,
and so easily, that from one to the other Law had the temerity
to ask M. le Due d'Orleans to allow his son, who danced very
well, to join the ballet company! The Regent, always easy,
still enamored of Law, and, to speak truth, purposely con-
tributing as much as possible to confusion of rank, immediately
accorded the demand, and undertook to say so to the Marechal
de Villeroy.

The marechal, who hated and crossed Law with might and
main, reddened with anger, and represented to the Regent
what, in fact, deserved to be said : the Regent, in reply, named
several young people, who, although of superior rank, were

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 245

not so well fitted for the ballet as young Law ; and although
the answer to this was close at hand, the marechal could not find
it, and exhausted himself in vain exclamations. He could not,
therefore, resist the Regent ; and, having no support from M.
le Due, superintendent of the King's education and a great
protector of Law and of confusion, he gave in, and the finan-
cier's son was named for the ballet.

It is impossible to express the public revolt excited by this
bagatelle, at which everyone was offended. Nothing else was
spoken of for some days ; tongues wagged freely, too ; and a
good deal of dirty water was thrown upon other dancers in the
ballet.

At last the public was satisfied. The small-pox seized Law's
son, and (on account of its keeping him from the ballet) caused
universal joy. The ballet was danced several times, its success
answering in no way to the expectations of the Marechal de
Villeroy. The King was so wearied, so fatigued, with learning,
with rehearsing, and with dancing this ballet, that he took an
aversion for these fetes and for everything offering display,
which has never quitted him since, and which does not fail
to leave a void in the court ; so that this ballet ceased sooner
than was intended, and the Marechal de Villeroy never dared
to propose another.

M. le Due d'Orleans, either by his usual facility, or to smooth
down the new elevation of Law to the post of comptroller-
general, bestowed a number of pecuniary favors ; he gave
600,000 livres to La Fare, captain of his guard ; 100,000 livres
to Castries, chevalier d'honneiir to Madame la Duchesse d'Or-
leans ; 200,000 livres to the old Prince de Courtenay, who
much needed them ; 20,000 livres pension to the Prince de
Talmont; 6,000 livres to the Marquise de Bellefonds, who
already had a similar sum ; and moved by cries on the part of
M. le Prince de Conti, 60,000 livres to the Comte de la Marche,
his son, scarcely three years old ; he gave, also, smaller amounts
to various others. Seeing so much depredation, and no re-
covery to hope for, I asked M. le Due d'Orleans to attach
12,000 livres, by way of increase, to my government of Senlis,
which was worth only 1,000 livres, and of which my second
son had the reversion. I obtained it at once.-

About the commencement of the new year, 1720, the system

246 SAINT-SIMON

of Law approached its end. If he had been content with his
bank — his bank within wise and proper Hmits — the money of
the reahn might have been doubled, and an extreme faciHty
afforded to commerce and to private enterprise, because, the
estabHshment ahvays being prepared to meet its habihties, the
notes it issued would have been as good as ready money, and
sometimes even preferable, on account of the facility of trans-
port. It must be admitted, however, as I declared to M. le
Due d'Orleans in his cabinet, and as I openly said in the coun-
cil of the regency when the bank passed there, that good as
this establishment might be in itself, it could only be so in
a republic, or in a monarchy, like that of England, where the
finances are absolutely governed by those who furnish them,
and who simply furnish as much or as little as they please;
but in a trivial, changing, and more than absolute State like
France, solidity necessarily is wanting, consequently confidence
(at least of a discreet and proper kind) : since a king, and under
his name, a mistress, a minister, favorites ; still more, extreme
necessities, such as the deceased King experienced in the years
1707-08-09 and 1 7 10 — a hundred things, in fact, could over-
throw the bank, the allurements of which were, at once, too
great and too easy. But to add to the reality of this bank, the
chimera of the Mississippi, with its shares, its special jargon,
its science (a continual juggle for drawing money from one
person to give it to another), was to almost guarantee that
these shares should at last end in smoke (since we had neither
mines, nor quarries of the philosopher's stone), and that the
few would be enriched at the expense of the many, as in fact
happened.

What hastened the fall of the bank, and of the system, was
the inconceivable prodigality of M. le Due d'Orleans, who,
without bounds, and worse still, if it can be, without choice,
could not resist the importunities even of those whom he knew,
beyond all doubt, to have been the most opposed to him, and
who were completely despicable, but gave with open hands ;
and more frequently allowed money to be drawn from him by
people who laughed at him, and who were grateful only to
their effrontery. People with difficulty believe what they have
seen ; and posterity will consider as a fable what we our-
selves look upon as a dream. At last, so much was given to

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV

247

a greedy and prodigal nation, always covetous and in want
on account of its luxury, its disorder, and its confusion of
ranks, that paper became scarce, and the mills could not furnish
enough.

It may be imagined by this, what abuse had been made of a
bank, established as a resource always ready, but which could
not exist as such without being always delicately adjusted ; and
above all, kept in a state to meet the obligations it had con-
tracted. I obtained information on this point from Law, when
he came to me on Tuesday mornings ; for a long time he
played with me before admitting his embarrassments, and com-
plained modestly and timidly, that the Regent was ruining
everything by his extravagance. I knew from outsiders more
than he thought, and it was this that induced me to press him
upon his balance-sheet. In admitting to me, at last, although
faintly, what he could no longer hide, he assured me he should
not be wanting in resources provided M. le Due d'Orleans left
him free. That did not persuade me. Soon after, the notes
began to lose favor; then to fall into discredit, and the dis-
credit to become public. Then came the necessity to sustain
them by force, since they could no longer be sustained by in-
dustry ; and the moment force showed itself everyone felt that
all was over. Coercive authority was resorted to ; the use of
gold, silver, and jewels was suppressed (I speak of coined
money) ; it was pretended that since the time of Abraham —
Abraham, who paid ready money for the sepulchre of Sarah —
all the civilized nations in the world had been in the greatest
error and under the grossest delusion, respecting money and
the metals it is made of ; that paper alone was useful and neces-
sary; that we could not do greater harm to our neighbors —
jealous of our greatness and of our advantages — than to send to
them all our money and all our jewels ; and this idea was in no
way concealed, for the Indian Company was allowed to visit
every house, even royal houses, confiscate all the louis d'or, and
the coins it could find there ; and to leave only pieces of twenty
sous and under (to the amount of not more than 200 francs),
for the odd money of bills, and in order to purchase necessary
provisions of a minor kind, with prohibitions, strengthened by
heavy punishment, against keeping more; so that everybody
was obliged to take all the ready money he possessed to the

248 SAINT-SIMON

bank, for fear of its being discovered by a valet. But nobody,
as may be imagined, v^as persuaded of the justice of the power
accorded to the company, and accordingly authority was more
and more exerted ; all private houses were searched, informa-
tions were laid against people in order that no money might be
kept back, or if it were, that the guilty parties might be severely
punished.

Never before had sovereign power been so violently exer-
cised, never had it attacked in such a manner the temporal in-
terests of the community. Therefore was it by a prodigy, rather
than by any effort or act of the government, that these terribly
new ordonnances failed to produce the saddest and most com-
plete revolutions ; but there was not even talk of them ; and
although there were so many millions of people, either abso-
lutely ruined or dying of hunger, and of the direst want, with-
out means to procure their daily subsistence, nothing more
than complaints and groans was heard.

This violence was, however, too excessive, and in every re-
spect too indefensible to last long; new paper and new juggling
tricks were of necessity resorted to; the latter were known to
be such — people felt them to be such — but they submitted to
them rather than not have twenty crowns in safety in their
houses ; and a greater violence made people sufifer the smaller.
Hence so many projects, so many different faces in finance, and
all tending to establish one issue of paper upon another ; that
is to say, always causing loss to the holders of the different
paper (everybody being obliged to hold it), and the universal
multitude. This is what occupied all the rest of the govern-
ment, and of the life of M. le Due d'Orleans ; which drove Law
out of the realm ; which increased sixfold the price of all
merchandise, all food even the commonest ; which ruinously
augmented every kind of wages, and ruined public and private
commerce ; which gave, at the expense of the public, sudden
riches to a few noblemen who dissipated it, and were all the
poorer in a short time ; which enabled many financiers' clerks,
and the lowest dregs of the people, profiting by the general
confusion, to take advantage of the Mississippi, and make
enormous fortunes ; which occupied the government several
years after the death of M. le Due d'Orleans ; and which, to
conclude, France never will recover from, although it may be

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 249

true that the vakie of land is considerably augmented. As a
last affliction, the all-powerful, especially the princes and prin-
cesses of the blood, who had been mixed up in the Mississippi,
and who had used all their authority to escape from it without
loss, re-established it upon what they called the Great Western
Company, which with the same juggles and exclusive trade
with the Indies, is completing the annihilation of the trade of
the realm, sacrificed to the enormous interest of a small number
of private individuals, whose hatred and vengeance the govern-
ment has not dared to draw upon itself by attacking their deli-
cate privileges.

Several violent executions, and confiscations of considerable
sums found in the houses searched, took place. A certain
Adine, employed at the bank, had 10,000 crowns confiscated,
was fined 10,000 francs, and lost his appointment. Many peo-
ple hid their money with so much secrecy, that, dying without
being able to say where they had put it, these little treasures re-
mained buried and lost to the heirs.

In the midst of the embarrassments of the finances, and in
spite of them, M. le Due d'Orleans continued his prodigal gifts.
He attached pensions of 6,000 livres and 4,000 livres to the
grades of lieutenant-general and camp-marshal. He gave a
pension of 20,000 livres to old Montauban ; one of 6,000 livres
to M. de Montauban (younger brother of the Prince de Gue-
mene) ; and one of 6,000 livres to the Duchesse de Brissac,
To several other people he gave pensions of 4,000 livres ; to
eight or ten others, 3,000 or 2,000 livres. I obtained one of
8,000 livres for Madame Marechal de Lorges ; and one of 6,000
livres was given to the Marechal de Chamilly, whose affairs
were much deranged by the Mississippi. M. de Soubise and the
Marquis Noailles had each upward of 200,000 livres. Even
St. Genies, just out of the Bastile, and banished to Beauvais,
had a pension of 1,000. Everybody in truth wanted an aug-
mentation of income, on account of the extreme high price to-
which the commonest, almost necessary things had risen, and
even all other things ; which although at last diminished by
degrees, remain to this day much dearer than they were before
the Mississippi.

The pensions being given away, M. le Due d'Orleans began
to think how he could reduce the public expenditure. Per-

250 SAINT-SIMON

suaded by those in whose financial knowledge he had most
confidence, he resolved to reduce to two per cent, the interest
upon all the funds. This much relieved those who paid, but
terribly cut down the income of those who received, that is to
say, the creditors of the State, who had lent their money at five
per cent., according to the loan — and, public faith and usage,
and who had hitherto peacefully enjoyed that interest. M. le
Due d'Orleans assembled at the Palais Royal several financiers
of different rank, and resolved with them to pass this edict. It
made such stir among the Parliament men, who refused to
register it. But M. le Due d'Orleans would not change his
determination, and maintained his decree in spite of them.

By dint of turning and turning around the Mississippi, not
to say of juggling with it, the desire came to establish, accord-
ing to the example of the English, colonies in the vast countries
beyond the seas. In order to people these colonies, persons
without means of livelihood, sturdy beggars, female and male,
and a quantity of public creatures were carried off. If this had
been executed with discretion and discernment, with the neces-
sary measures and precautions, it would have insured the
object proposed, and relieved Paris and the provinces of a
heavy, useless, and often dangerous burden ; but in Paris and
elsewhere so much violence, and even more roguery, were
mixed up with it, that great murmuring was excited. Not the
slightest care had been taken to provide for the subsistence of
so many unfortunate people, either while in the place they were
to embark from, or while on the road to reach it ; by night they
were shut up, with nothing to eat, in barns, or in the dry ditches
of the towns they stopped in, all means of egress being for-
bidden them. They uttered cries which excited pity and indig-
nation ; but the alms collected for them not being sufficient,
still less the little their conductors gave them, they everywhere
died in frightful numbers.

This inhumanity, joined to the barbarity of the conductors,
to violence of a kind unknown until this, and to the rascality
of carrying off people who were not of the prescribed quality
but whom others thus got rid of by whispering a word in the
ear of the conductors and greasing their palms ; all these things,
I say, caused so much stir, so much excitement, that the system,
it was found, could not be kept up. Some troops had been

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV 251

embarked, and during the voyage were not treated much better
than the others. The persons already collected were set at
liberty, allowed to do what they pleased, and no more were
seized. Law, regarded as the author of these seizures, became
much detested, and M. le Due d'Orleans repented having ever
fallen in with the scheme.

This year, 1720, became celebrated by the publication of a
decree of the Council of State, concerning the shares of the
Company of the Indies (the same as that known under the name
of Mississippi) and the notes of Law's bank. This decree
diminished by degrees, and from month to month, the value of
the shares and the note ; so that, by the end of the year, that
value would have been reduced one-half.

This, in the language of finance and of bankruptcy, was
to turn tail with a vengeance ; and its effect, while remedying
nothing, was to make people believe that things were in a
worse state than was actually the case. Argenson who, as we
have seen, had been turned out of the finances to make room
for Law, was generally accused of suggesting this decree out
of malice, already foreseeing all the evils that must arise from
it. The uproar was general and frightful. There was not a
rich person who did not believe himself lost without resource ;
not a poor one who did not see himself reduced to beggary.
The Parliament, so opposed to the new money system, did not
let slip this fine opportunity. It rendered itself the protector
of the public by refusing to register the decree, and by
promptly uttering the strongest remonstrance against it. The
public even believed that to the Parliament was due the sud-
den revocation of the edict, which, however, was simply caused
by the universal complaining, and the tardy discovery of the
fault committed in passing it. The little confidence in Law
remaining was now radically extinguished; not an atom of
it could ever be set afloat again. Seditious writings and ana-
lytical and reasonable pamphlets rained on all sides, and the
consternation was general.

The Parliament assembled on Monday, the twenty-seventh of
May, in the morning, and named certain of its members to go
to M. le Due d'Orleans, with remonstrances against the decree.
About noon of the same day, M. le Due d'Orleans sent La
Vrilliere to say to the Parliament that he revoked that decree.

252 SAINT-SIMON

and that the notes would remain as before. La Vrilliere, find-
ing that the ParHament had adjourned, went to the chief presi-
dent, to say with what he was charged. After dinner the par-
hamentary deputies came to the Palais Royal, where they were
well received ; M. le Due d'Orleans confirmed what they had
already heard from La Vrilliere, and said to them that he
would re-establish the funds of the Hotel de Ville at two and a
half per cent. The deputies expected that in justice and in
goodness he ought to raise them to at least three per cent.
M. le Due d'Orleans answered, that he should like not only to
raise them to three, but to four, nay five per cent. ; but that the
state of affairs would not permit him to go beyond two and a
half. On the next day was published the counter-decree,
which placed the shares and actions as they were before May
22d. The decree of that date was therefore revoked in six
days, after having caused such a strange effect.

On Wednesday, the twenty-ninth, a pretty little comedy was
played. Le Blanc, secretary of state, went to Law, told him
that M. le Due d'Orleans discharged him from his office as
comptroller-general of the finances, thanked him for the atten-
tion he had given to it, and announced that as many people in
Paris did not like him, a meritorious officer should keep guard
in his house to prevent any accident that might happen to him.
At the same time, Benzualde, major of the regiment of Swiss
guards, arrived with sixteen of his men to remain night and
day in Law's house.

The Scotchman did not in the least expect this dismissal or
this guard, but he appeared very tranquil respecting both, and
maintained his usual coolness. The next day he was taken
by the Due de La Force to the Palais Royal. Then comedy
number two was played. M. le Due d'Orleans refused to see
the financier, who went away without an interview. On the
day after, however. Law was admitted by the back stairs,
closeted with the Regent, and was treated by him as well as
ever. The comedies were over.

On Sunday, June 2d, Benzualde and his Swiss withdrew
from Law's house. Stock-jobbing was banished at the same
time from the Rue Quincampoix, and established in the Place
Vendome. In this latter place there was more room for it.
The passers-by were not incommoded. Yet some people did

COURT LIFE UNDER LOUIS XIV

253

not find it as convenient as the other. At this time the King
gave up to the bank 100,000,000 shares he had in it.

On July 5th, a decree of the council was issued, prohibiting
people from possessing jewels, from keeping them locked up, or
from selling them to foreigners. It may be imagined what a
commotion ensued. This decree was grafted upon a number
of others, the object of all, too visibly, being to seize upon all
coin, in favor of the discredited paper, in which nobody could
any longer have the slightest confidence. In vain M. le Due
d'Orleans, M. le Due, and his mother, tried to persuade others,
by getting rid of their immense stores of jewels, that is to say,
by sending them abroad on a journey — nothing more: not a
person was duped by this example ; not a person omitted to
conceal his jewels very carefully : a thing much more easy to
accomplish than the concealment of gold or silver coin, on ac-
count of the smaller value of precious stones.

MEMOIRS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE

2Feannc %om^t i^cnrictte Camjjan

JEANNE LOUISE HENRIETTE CAMPAN

1752 — 1822

Madame Jeanne Louise Henriette Campan, reader to the daughters of
Louis XV, and friend and confidante of the ill-fated Marie Antoinette,
was born in Paris, 1752, and died at Mantes, 1822. She was favored by
Marie Antoinette, and gave her royal patroness numerous proofs of her
fidelity. When the unfortunate Queen was conveyed to the Temple, she
wished to share her captivity, but was refused entrance by Pction. Dur-
ing the Reign of Terror she remained concealed at Combeitin. After
the fall of Robespierre she opened a boarding-school at St. Germain-en-
Laye, which was patronized by Josephine Beauharnais, who sent her
daughter Hortense to it. In 1806 Napoleon appointed her Lady Superin-
tendent of the institution at Ecouen for the education of the daughters
of the officers of the Legion of Honor. After the restoration, this insti-
tution was suppressed, and Madame Campan retired to Mantes, where
she died. She is chiefly remembered on account of her interesting work,
"Memoires sur la Vie Privee de la Reine Marie Antoinette."

MARIE ANTOINETTE
1755-1793

Marie Antoinette de Lorraine, wife of Louis XVI of France, was the
youngest daughter of Francis I, Emperor of Germany, and the famous
Maria Theresa. She was born at Vienna, November 2, 1755 ; ^t the age
of fourteen was betrothed to the Dauphin ; and in the following year was
married at Versailles. Her reception by her husband and the King, Louis
XV, was flattering enough ; but her Austrian frankness and simplicity,
her naivetd, unceremonious pleasantry, and detestation of rigid etiquette,
scandalized Versailles. Soon after the accession of Louis XVI, libels
were circulated by her enemies, accusing her of constant intrigues, not
one of which has ever been proved. Her faults as a queen were a certain
levity of disposition, a girlish love of pleasure, banquets, fine dress, an
aristocratic indifference to general opinion, and a lamentable incapacity
to see the actual misery of France. The affair of the diamond necklace,
in 1785, hopelessly compromised her good name in the eye of the public,
although, in point of fact, Marie Antoinette was quite innocent of any
grave offence. Her political role was not more fortunate. From the first
hour of the Revolution she was an object of fanatical hatred to the mob
of Paris. Her life was attempted at Versailles by a band of assassins on
the morning of October 6, 1789, and she narrowly escaped. After this
she made some spasmodic efforts to gain the good-will of the populace by
visiting the great manufactories of the capital, such as the Gobelins.
The relentless populace only hated her the more. At last she resolved
on flight. Her husband long refused to abandon his country, and she
would not go without him. A dim sense of kingly duty and honor was
not wanting to Louis, but after the mob stopped his coach on April i8,
1791, and would not let him go to St. Cloud, he consented. The flight
took place on the night of June 20th. Unfortunately, the royal fugitives
were recognized and captured at Varennes. From this time her attitude
became heroic. After the useless effort to defend the Tuileries, she was
confined in the Temple, separated from her family and friends, and sub-
jected to most sickening humiliations. On August i, I793. she was
removed to the Conciergerie, by order of the Convention, condemned by
the Revolutionary Tribunal, October 1 5th, and guillotined ne.xt day.

256

MEMOIRS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE

IN the beginning of the spring of 1791, the King, tired
of remaining at the Tuileries, wished to return to St.
Cloud. His whole household had already gone, and his
dinner was prepared there. He got into his carriage at one;
the guard mutinied, shut the gates, and declared they would
not let him pass. This event certainly proceeded from some
suspicion of a plan to escape. Two persons who drew near
the King's carriage were very ill-treated. My father-in-law
was violently laid hold of by the guards, who took his sword
from him. The King and his family were obliged to alight and
return to their apartments. They did not much regret this
outrage in their hearts ; they saw in it a justification, even in
the eyes of the people, of their intention to leave Paris.

So early as the month of March in the same year, the Queen
began to busy herself in preparing for her departure. I spent
that month with her, and executed a great number of secret
orders which she gave me respecting the intended event. It
was with uneasiness that I saw her occupied with cares which
seemed to me useless, and even dangerous, and I remarked to
her that the Queen of France would find linen and gowns
everywhere. My observations were made in vain ; she deter-
mined to have a complete wardrobe with her at Brussels, as
well for her children as herself. I went out alone and almost
disguised to purchase the articles necessary and have them
made up.

I ordered six chemises at the shop of one seamstress, six at
that of another, gowns, combing cloths, etc. My sister had
a complete set of clothes made for Madame, by the measure
of her eldest daughter, and I ordered clothes for the Dauphin
from those of my son. I filled a trunk with these things, and
addressed them, by the Queen's orders, to one of her women,
17 257

258 CAMPAN

my aunt, Madame Cardon — a widow living at Arras, by virtue
of an unlimited leave of absence — in order that she might be
ready to start for Brussels, or any other place, as soon as she
should be directed to do so. This lady had landed property
in Austrian Flanders, and could at any time quit Arras unob-
served.

The Queen was to take only her first woman in attendance
with her from Paris. She apprised me that if I should not
be on duty at the moment of departure, she would make ar-
rangements for my joining her. She determined also to take
her travelling dressing-case. She consulted me on her idea
of sending it olT, under pretence of making a present of it to
the Archduchess Christina, gouvernante of the Netherlands.
I ventured to oppose this plan strongly, and observed that, amid
so many people who watched her slightest actions, there would
be found a sufficient number sharp-sighted enough to discover
that it was only a pretext for sending away the property in
question before her own departure ; she persisted in her inten-
tion, and all I could arrange was that the dressing-case should

not be removed from her apartment, and that M. de ,

charge d'affaires from the Court of Vienna during the absence
of the Comte de Mercy, should come and ask her, at her toilet,
before all her people, to order one exactly like her own for
Madame, the gouvernante of the Netherlands. The Queen,
therefore, commanded me before the charge d'affaires to order
the article in question. This occasioned only an expense of 500
louis, and appeared calculated to lull suspicion completely.

About the middle of May, 1791, a month after the Queen
had ordered me to bespeak the dressing-case, she asked me
whether it would soon be finished. I sent for the ivory-turner
who had it in hand. He could not complete it for six weeks.
I informed the Queen of this, and she told me she should not
be able to wait for it, as she was to set out in the course of
June. She added that, as she had ordered her sister's dressing-
case in the presence of all her attendants, she had taken a suffi-
cent precaution, especially by saying that her sister was out of
patience at not receiving it, and that therefore her own must
be emptied and cleaned, and taken to the charge d'affaires,
who would send it off. I executed this order without any
appearance of mystery. I desired the wardrobe woman to

MEMOIRS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE

259

take out of the dressing-case all that it contained, because that
intended for the archduchess could not be finished for some
time ; and to take great care to leave no remains of the per-
fumes which might not suit that princess.

The woman in question executed her commission punctually ;
but, on the evening of that very day, the fifteenth of May, 1791,
she informed M, Bailly, the Mayor of Paris, that preparations
were making at the Queen's residence for a departure ; and
that the dressing-case was already sent off, under pretence of
its being presented to the Archduchess Christina.^

It was necessary, likewise, to send off all the diamonds be-
longing to the Queen. Her Majesty shut herself up with me
in a closet in the entresol, looking into the garden of the Tui-
leries, and we packed all the diamonds, rubies, and pearls she
possessed in a small chest. The cases containing these orna-
ments, being altogether of considerable bulk, had been depos-
ited, ever since October 6, 1789, with the valet de chambre who
had the care of the Queen's jewels. That faithful servant,
himself detecting the use that was to be made of the valuables,
destroyed all the boxes, which were, as usual, covered with red
morocco, marked with the cipher and arms of France. It would
have been impossible for him to hide them from the eyes of the
popular inquisitors during the domiciliary visits in January,
1793, and the discovery might have formed a ground of accusa-
tion against the Queen.

I had but a few articles to place in the box when the Queen
was compelled to desist from packing it, being obliged to go
down to cards, which began at seven precisely. She therefore
desired me to leave all the diamonds upon the sofa, persuaded
that, as she took the key of her closet herself, and there was
a sentinel under the window, no danger was to be apprehended
for that night, and she reckoned upon returning very early next
day to finish the work.

The same woman who had given information of the sending
away of the dressing-case was also deputed by the Queen to
take care of her more private rooms. No other servant was
permitted to enter them ; she renewed the flowers, swept the
carpets, etc. The Queen received back the key, when the

* After the return from Varennes M. Bailly put this woman's deposition into
the Queen's hands.

26o CAMPAN

woman had finished putting them in order, from her own
hands; but, desirous of doing her duty well, and sometimes
having the key in her possession for a few minutes only, she
had probably on that account ordered one without the Queen's
knowledge. It is impossible not to believe this, since the de-
spatch of the diamonds was the subject of a second accusation
which the Queen heard of after the return from Varennes,

She made a formal declaration that her Majesty, with the
assistance of Madame Campan, had packed up all her jewelry
some time before the departure ; that she was certain of it, as
she had found the diamonds, and the cotton which served to
wrap them, scattered upon the sofa in the Queen's closet in the
entresol; and most assuredly she could only have seen these
preparations in the interval between seven in the evening and
seven in the morning. The Queen having met me next day
at the time appointed, the box was handed over to Leonard, her
Majesty's hairdresser, who left the country with the Due de
Choiseul.^ The box remained a long time at Brussels, and at
length got into the hands of Madame la Duchesse d'Angou-
leme, being delivered to her by the Emperor on her arrival at
Vienna.

In order not to leave out any of the Queen's diamonds, I
requested the first tirewoman to give me the body of the full
dress, and all the assortment which served for the stomacher
of the full dress on days of state, articles which always re-
mained at the wardrobe.

The superintendent and the dame d'honneur being absent,
the first tirewoman required me to sign a receipt, the terms of
which she dictated, and which acquitted her of all responsibility
for these diamonds. She had the prudence to burn this docu-
ment on August lo, 1792.3 The Queen having determined,
upon the arrest at Varennes, not to have her diamonds brought
back to France, was often anxious about them during the year
which elapsed between that period and the tenth of August,
and dreaded above all things that such a secret should be dis-
covered.

In consequence of a decree of the Assembly, which deprived
the King of the custody of the Crown diamonds, the Queen

^ This unfortunate man, after having •''The date of the sack of the Tuileries

emigrated for some time, returned to and slaughter of the Swiss Guard.
France, and perished upon the scaflfold.

MEMOIRS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 261

had at this time already given up those which she generally
used.

She preferred the twelve brilliants called Mazarins, from the
name of the cardinal who had enriched the treasury with them,
a few rose-cut diamonds, and the Sanci. She determined to
deliver, with her own hands, the box containing them to the
commissioner nominated by the National Assembly to place
them with the Crown diamonds. After giving them to him,
she offered him a row of pearls of great beauty, saying to him
that it had been brought into France by Anne of Austria ; that
it was invaluable, on account of its rarity ; that, having been
appropriated by the princess to the use of the queens and
dauphinesses, Louis XV had placed it in her hands on her ar-
rival in France; but that she considered it national property.
" That is an open question, madame," said the commissary.
" Monsieur," replied the Queen, " it is one for me to decide,
and is now settled."

My father-in-law, who was dying of the grief he felt for the
misfortunes of his master and mistress, strongly interested and
occupied the thoughts of the Queen. He had been saved from
the fury of the populace in the courtyard of the Tuileries.

On the day on which the King was compelled by an insur-
rection to give up a journey to St. Cloud, her Majesty looked
upon this trusty servant as inevitably lost, if, on going away,
she should leave him in the apartment he occupied in the Tui-
leries. Prompted by her apprehensions, she ordered M. Vicq-
d'Azyr, her physican, to recommend him the waters of Mont
d'Or in Auvergne, and to persuade him to set off at the latter
end of May. At the moment of my going away the Queen as-
sured me that the grand project would be executed between
the fifteenth and the twentieth of June ; that as it was not my
month to be on duty, Madame Thibaut would take the jour-
ney ; but that she had many directions to give me before I
went. She then desired me to write to my aunt, Madame Car-
don, who was by that time in possession of the clothes which I
had ordered, that as soon as she should receive a letter from M.
Auguie, the date of which should be accompanied with a B, an
L, or an M, she was to proceed with her property to Brussels,
Luxembourg, or Montmedy. She desired me to explain the
meaning of these three letters clearly to my sister, and to leave

262 CAMPAN

them with her in writing, in order that at the moment of my
going away she might be able to take my place in writing to
Arras.

The Queen had a more delicate commission for me ; it was
to select from among my acquaintance a prudent person of ob-
scure rank, wholly devoted to the interests of the court, who
would be willing to receive a portfolio which she was to give up
only to me, or someone furnished with a note from the Queen.
She added that she would not travel with this portfolio, and
that it was of the utmost importance that my opinion of the
fidelity of the person to whom it was to be intrusted should
be well founded. I proposed to her Madame Vallayer Coster,
a painter of the Academy, and an amiable and worthy artist,
whom I had known from my infancy. She lived in the galler-
ies of the Louvre. The choice seemed a good one. The Queen
remembered that she had made her marriage possible by giving
her a place in the financial offices, and added that gratitude
ought sometimes to be reckoned on. She then pointed out to
me the valet belonging to her toilet, whom I was to take with
me, to show him the residence of Madame Coster, so that he
might not mistake it when he should take the portfolio to her.
The day before her departure the Queen particularly recom-
mended me to proceed to Lyons and the frontiers as soon as she
should have started. She advised me to take with me a confi-
dential person, fit to remain with M. Campan when I should
leave him, and assured me that she would give orders to M.

to set ofif as soon as she should be known to be at the

frontiers in order to protect me in going out. She conde-
scended to add that, having a long journey to make in foreign
countries, she determined to give me 300 louis.

I bathed the Queen's hands with tears at the moment of this
sorrowful separation ; and, having money at my disposal, I de-
clined accepting her gold. I did not dread the road I had to
travel in order to rejoin her ; all my apprehension was that by
treachery or miscalculation a scheme, the safety of which was
not sufficiently clear to me, should fail. I could answer for all
those who belonged to the service immediately about the
Queen's person, and I was right ; but her wardrobe woman
gave me well-founded reason for alarm. I mentioned to the
Queen many revolutionary remarks which this woman had

MEMOIRS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 263

made to me a few days before. Her office was directly under
the control of the first fcmmc dc chambre, yet she had refused
to obey the directions I gave her, talking insolently to me about
"' hierarchy overturned, equality among men," of course more
especially among persons holding offices at court ; and this
jargon, at that time in the mouths of all the partisans of the
Revolution, was terminated by an observation which frightened
me. " You know many important secrets, madame," said this
woman to me, " and I have guessed quite as many. I am not
a fool ; I see all that is going forward here in consequence of
the bad advice given to the King and Queen ; I could frustrate
it all if I chose."

This argument, in which I had been promptly silenced, left
me pale and trembling. Unfortunately, as I began my narra-
tive to the Queen with particulars of this woman's refusal to
obey me — and sovereigns are all their lives importuned with
complaints upon the rights of places — she believed that my own
dissatisfaction had much to do with the step I was taking ; and
she did not sufficiently fear the woman. Her office, although
a very inferior one, brought her in nearly 15,000 francs a year.
Still young, tolerably handsome, with comfortable apartments
in the entresols of the Tuileries, she saw a great deal of com-
pany, and in the evening had assemblies, consisting of deputies
of the revolutionary party. M. de Gouvion, major-general of
the National Guard, passed almost every day with her ; and
it is to be presumed that she had long worked for the party in
opposition to the court. The Queen asked her for the key of
a door which led to the principal vestibule of the Tuileries,
telling her she wished to have a similar one, that she might
not be under the necessity of going out through the pavilion of
Flora. M. de Gouvion and M. de La Fayette would, of course,
be apprised of this circumstance, and well-informed persons
have assured me that on the very night of the Queen's depar-
ture this wretched woman had a spy with her, who saw the
royal family set off.

As soon as I had executed all the Queen's orders, on May 30,
1 79 1, I set out for Auvergne, and was settled in the gloomy
narrow valley of Mont d'Or, when, about four in the after-
noon of June 25th, I heard the beat of a drum to call the inhab-
itants of the hamlet together. When it had ceased I heard a

264 CAMPAN

hairdresser from Bresse proclaim in the provincial dialect of
Auvergne : " The King and Queen were taking flight in order
to ruin France, but I come to tell you that they are stopped,
and are well guarded by a hundred thousand men under arms."
I still ventured to hope that he was repeating only a false re-
port, but he went on : " The Queen, with her well-known
haughtiness, lifted up the veil which covered her face, and
said to the citizens who were upbraiding the King, ' Well,
since you recognize your sovereign, respect him.' " Upon
hearing these expressions, which the Jacobin club of Clermont
could not have invented, I exclaimed, " The news is true ! "

I immediately learned that, a courier being come from Paris
to Clermont, the procureiir of the commune had sent off mes-
sengers to the chief places of the canton; these again sent
couriers to the districts, and the districts in like manner in-
formed the villages and hamlets which they contained. It was
through this ramification, arising from the establishment of
clubs, that the afflicting intelligence of the misfortune of my
sovereigns reached me in the wildest part of France, and in the
midst of the snows by which we were environed.

On the twenty-eighth I received a note written in a hand
which I recognized as that of M. Diet,* usher of the Queen's
chamber, but dictated by her Majesty. It contained these
words: " I am this moment arrived; I have just got into my
bath ; I and my family exist, that is all. I have suffered much.
Do not return to Paris until I desire you. Take good care of
my poor Campan, soothe his sorrow. Look for happier times."
This note was for greater safety addressed to my father-in-law's
valet de chamhre. What were my feelings on perceiving that
after the most distressing crisis we were among the first objects
of the kindness of that unfortunate princess !

M. Campan having been unable to benefit by the waters of
Mont d'Or, and the first popular effervescence having sub-
sided, I thought I might return to Clermont. The committee
of surveillance, or that of general safety, had resolved to arrest
me there ; but the Abbe Louis, formerly a parliamentary coun-
sellor, and then a member of the Constituent Assembly, was
kind enough to affirm that I was in Auvergne solely for the
purpose of attending my father-in-law, who was extremely ill.

* This officer was slain in the Queen's chamber on August 10, 1792. — Madame
Campan. ~

MEMOIRS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 265

The precautions relative to my absence from Paris were lim-
ited to placing us under the surveillance of the procurcitr of
the commune, who was at the same time president of the Ja-
cobin club ; but he was also a physician of repute, and without
having any doubt that he had received secret orders relative
to me, I thought it would favor the chances of our safety if I
selected him to attend my patient. I paid him according to the
rate given to the best Paris physicians, and I requested him to
visit us every morning and every evening. I took the precau-
tion to subscribe to no other newspaper than the " Moniteur."

Doctor Monestier (for that was the physician's name) fre-
quently took upon himself to read it to us. Whenever he
thought proper to speak of the King and Queen in the insult-
ing and brutal terms at that time unfortunately adopted
throughout France, I used to stop him and say, coolly : " Mon-
sieur, you are here in company with the servants of Louis XVI
and Marie Antoinette. Whatever may be the wrongs with
which the nation believes it has to reproach them, our prin-
ciples forbid our losing sight of the respect due to them from
us." Notwithstanding that he was an inveterate patriot, he
felt the force of this remark, and even procured the revocation
of a second order for our arrest, becoming responsible for us
to the committee of the Assembly, and to the Jacobin society.

The two chief women about the Dauphin, who had accom-
panied the Queen to Varennes, Diet, her usher, and Camot,
her gargon de toilette — the women on account of the journey,
and the men in consequence of the denunciation of the woman
belonging to the wardrobe — were sent to the prisons of the
Abbaye. After my departure the gargon de toilette whom I had
taken to Madame Vallayer Coster's was sent there with the
portfolio she had agreed to receive. This commission could
not escape the detestable spy upon the Queen. She gave infor-
mation that a portfolio had been carried out on the evening of
the departure, adding that the King had placed it upon the
Queen's easy-chair, that the gargon de toilette wrapped it up in
a napkin and took it under his arm, and that she did not know
where he had carried it. The man, who was remarkable for
his fidelity, underwent three examinations without making the
slightest disclosure. M. Diet, a man of good family, a servant
on whom the Queen placed particular reliance, likewise experi-

266 CAMPAN

enced the severest treatment. At length, after a lapse of three
weeks, the Queen succeeded in obtaining the release of her
servants.

The Queen, about the fifteenth of August, had me informed
by letter that I might come back to Paris without being under
any apprehension of arrest there, and that she greatly desired
my return. I brought my father-in-law back in a dying state,
and on the day preceding that of the acceptation of the con-
stitutional act, I informed the Queen that he was no more.
" The loss of Lassonne and Campan," said she, as she applied
her handkerchief to her streaming eyes, " has taught me how
valuable such subjects are to their masters. I shall never find
their equals."

I resumed my functions about the Queen on September i,
1791, She was unable then to converse with me on all the
lamentable events which had occurred since the time of my
leaving her, having on guard near her an officer whom she
dreaded more than all the others. She merely told me that
I should have some secret services to perform for her, and
that she would not create uneasiness by long conversations with
me, my return being a subject of suspicion. But next day
the Queen, well knowing the discretion of the officer who was
to be on guard that night, had my bed placed very near hers,
and having obtained the favor of having the door shut, when
I was in bed she began the narrative of the journey, and the
unfortunate arrest at Varennes. I asked her permission to put
on my gown, and kneeling by her bedside I remained until
three o'clock in the morning, listening with the liveliest and
most sorrowful interest to the account I am about to repeat,
and of which I have seen various details, of tolerable exact-
ness, in papers of the time.

The King intrusted Count Fersen with all the preparations
for departure. The carriage was ordered by him ; the pass-
port, in the name of Madame de Korf, was procured through
his connection with that lady, who was a foreigner. And lastly,
he himself drove the royal family, as their coachman, as far as
Bondy, where the travellers got into their berlin. Madame
Brunier and Madame Neuville, the first women of Madame and
the Dauphin, there joined the principal carriage. They were
in a cabriolet. Monsieur and Madame set out from the Luxem-

MEMOIRS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 267

bourg and took another road. They as well as the King were
recognized by the master of the last post in France, but this
man, devoting himself to the fortunes of the prince, left the
French territory, and drove them himself as postilion. Ma-
dame Thibaut, the Queen's first woman, reached Brussels with-
out the slightest difficulty. Madame Cardon, from Arras, met
with no hinderance ; and Leonard, the Queen's hairdresser,
passed through Varennes a few hours before the royal family.
Fate had reserved all its obstacles for the unfortunate monarch.

Nothing worthy of notice occurred in the beginning of the
journey. The travellers were detained a short time, about
twelve leagues from Paris, by some repairs which the car-
riage required. The King chose to walk up one of the hills,
and these two circumstances caused a delay of three hours, pre-
cisely at the time when it was intended that the berlin should
have been met, just before reaching Varennes, by the detach-
ment commanded by M. de Goguelat. This detachment was
punctually stationed upon the spot fixed on, with orders to
wait there for the arrival of certain treasure, which it was to
escort ; but the peasantry of the neighborhood, alarmed at the
sight of this body of troops, came armed with staves, and asked
several questions, which manifested their anxiety, M. de
Goguelat, fearful of causing a riot, and not finding the carriage
arrive as he expected, divided his men into two companies, and
unfortunately made them leave the highway in order to return
to Varennes by two cross-roads.^ The King looked out of the
carriage at Ste. Menehould, and asked several questions con-
cerning the road. Drouet, the post-master, struck by the re-
semblance of Louis to the impression of his head upon the
assignats, drew near the carriage, felt convinced that he recog-
nized the Queen also, and that the remainder of the travellers
consisted of the royal family and their suite, mounted his horse,
reached Varennes by cross-roads before the royal fugitives, and
gave the alarm.^

The Queen began to feel all the agonies of terror ; they were
augmented by the voice of a person unknown, who, passing
close to the carriage in full gallop, cried out, bending toward

* Madame Campan here attributes to ' Varennes lies between Verdun and

M. de Goguelat the steps taken by the Montmedy, and not far from the

Due de Choiseul, the motives for which French frontier.
he explains in his " Memoirs," p. 84.

268 CAMPAN

the window without slackening his speed, " You are recog-
nized ! " They arrived with beating hearts at the gates of Va-
rennes without meeting one of the horsemen by whom they
were to have been escorted into the place. They were ignorant
where to find their relays, and some minutes were lost in wait-
ing, to no purpose. The cabriolet had preceded them, and the
two ladies in attendance found the bridge already blocked up
with old carts and lumber. The town guards were all under
arms. The King at last entered Varennes. M. de Goguelat
had arrived there with his detachment. He came up to the
King and asked him if he chose to effect a passage by force I
What an unlucky question to put to Louis XVI, who from
the very beginning of the Revolution had shown in every crisis
the fear he entertained of giving the least order which might
cause an effusion of blood "Would it be a brisk action?"
said the King. " It is impossible that it should be otherwise,
sire," replied the aide-de-camp.

Louis XVI was unwilling to expose his family. They there-
fore went to the house of a grocer, Mayor of Varennes. The
King began to speak, and gave a summary of his intentions
in departing, analogous to the declaration he had made at Paris.
He spoke with warmth and affability, and endeavored to dem-
onstrate to the people around him that he had only put himself,
by the step he had taken, into a fit situation to treat with the
Assembly, and to sanction with freedom the Constitution which
he would maintain, though many of its articles were incom-
patible with the dignity of the throne, and the force by which
it was necessary that the sovereign should be surrounded.
Nothing could be more affecting, added the Queen, than this
moment, in which the King felt bound to communicate to the
very humblest class of his subjects his principles, his wishes for
the happiness of his people, and the motives which had deter-
mined him to depart.

While the King was speaking to this mayor, whose name
was Sauce, the Queen, seated at the farther end of the shop,
among parcels of soap and candles, endeavored to make Ma-
dame Sauce understand that if she would prevail upon her
husband to make use of his municipal authority to cover the
flight of the King and his family, she would have the glory of
having contributed to restore tranquillity to France. This

MEMOIRS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 269

woman was moved ; she could not, without streaming eyes,
see herself thus solicited by her Queen; but she could not be
got to say anything more than, " Bon Dieu, madame, it would
be the destruction of M. Sauce; I love my King, but I love
my husband too, you must know, and he would be answerable,
you see."

While this strange scene was passing in the shop, the people,
hearing that the King was arrested, kept pouring in from all
parts. M. de Goguelat, making a last effort, demanded of the
dragoons whether they would protect the departure of the
King; they replied only by murmurs, dropping the points of
their swords. Some person unknown fired a pistol at M. de
Goguelat ; he was slightly wounded by the ball. M. Romeuf,
aide-de-camp to M. de La Fayette, arrived at that moment.
He had been chosen, after October 6, 1789, by the commander
of the Parisian guard to be in constant attendance about the
Queen. She reproached him bitterly with the object of his
mission. " If you wish to make your name remarkable, mon-
sieur," said the Queen to him, " you have chosen strange and
odious means, which will produce the most fatal consequences."
This officer wished to hasten their departure. The Queen, still
cherishing the hope of seeing M. de Bouille arrive with a suffi-
cient force to extricate the King from his critical situation, pro-
longed her stay at Varennes by every means in her power.

The Dauphin's first woman pretended to be taken ill with a
violent colic, and threw herself upon a bed, in the hope of aid-
ing the designs of her superiors ; she went and implored for as-
sistance. The Queen understood her perfectly well, and refused
to leave one who had devoted herself to follow them in such
a state of suffering. But no delay in departing was allowed.
The three body-guards (Valory, Du Moustier, and Maiden)
were gagged and fastened upon the seat of the carriage. A
horde of National Guards, animated with fury and the barbar-
ous joy with which their fatal triumph inspired them, sur-
rounded the carriage of the royal family.

The three commissioners sent by the Assembly to meet the
King, MM. de Latour-Maubourg, Barnave, and Petion, joined
them in the environs of Epernay. The two last mentioned got
into the King's carriage. The Queen astonished me by the
favorable opinion she had formed of Barnave. When I quitted

270 CAMPAN

Paris a great many persons spoke of him only with horror.
She told me he was much altered, that he was full of talent
and noble feeling. " A feeling of pride which I cannot much
blame in a young man belonging to the tiers ctat," she said,
" made him applaud everything which smoothed the road to
rank and fame for that class in which he was born. And if we
get the power in our own hands again, Barnave's pardon is
already written on our hearts."

The Queen added, that she had not the same feeling toward
those nobles who had joined the revolutionary party, who had
always received marks of favor, often to the injury of those be-
neath them in rank, and who, born to be the safeguard of the
monarchy, could never be pardoned for having deserted it.
She then told me that Barnave's conduct upon the road was
perfectly correct, while Petion's republican rudeness was dis-
gusting; that the latter ate and drank in the King's berlin in
a slovenly manner, throwing the bones of the fowls out through
the window at the risk of sending them even into the King's
face ; lifting up his glass, when Madame Elisabeth poured him
out wine, to show her that there was enough, without saying
a word ; that this ofifensive behavior must have been inten-
tional, because the man was not without education ; and that
Barnave was hurt at it. On being pressed by the Queen to take
something, " Madame," replied Barnave, " on so solemn an oc-
casion the deputies of the National Assembly ought to occupy
your Majesties solely about their mission, and by no means
about their wants." In short, his respectful delicacy, his con-
siderate attentions, and all that he said, gained the esteem not
only of the Queen, but of Madame Elisabeth also.

The King began to talk to Petion about the situation of
France, and the motives of his conduct, which were founded
upon the necessity of giving to the executive power a strength
necessary for its action, for the good even of the constitutional
act, since France could not be a republic. " Not yet, 'tis true,"
replied Petion, " because the French are not ripe enough for
that." This audacious and cruel answer silenced the King,
who said no more until his arrival at Paris. Petion held the
little Dauphin upon his knees, and amused himself with curl-
ing the beautiful light hair of the interesting child round his
fingers; and, as he spoke with much gesticulation, he pulled

MEMOIRS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 271

his locks hard enough to make the Dauphin cry out. " Give
me my son," said the Queen to him ; " he is accustomed to ten-
derness and dehcacy, which render him Httle fit for such famil-
iarity."

The Chevalier de Dampierre was killed near the King's car-
riage upon leaving Varennes, A poor village cure, some
leagues from the place where the crime was committed, was
imprudent enough to draw near to speak to the King; the
cannibals who surrounded the carriage rushed upon him.
" Tigers," exclaimed Barnave, " have you ceased to be French-
men? Nation of brave men, are you become a set of assas-
sins ? " These words alone saved the cure, who was already
upon the ground, from certain death. Barnave, as he spoke
to them, threw himself almost out of the coach window, and
Madame Elisabeth, affected by this noble burst of feeling, held
him by the skirt of his coat. The Queen, while speaking of
this event, said that on the most momentous occasions whimsi-
cal contrasts always struck her, and that even at such a moment
the pious Elisabeth holding Barnave by the flap of his coat was
a ludicrous sight.

The deputy was astonished in another way. Madame Elisa-
beth's comments upon the state of France, her mild and per-
suasive eloquence, and the ease and simplicity with which she
talked to him, yet without sacrificing her dignity in the slightest
degree, appeared to him unique, and his heart, which was doubt-
less inclined to right principles though he had followed the
wrong path, was overcome by admiration. The conduct of
the two deputies convinced the Queen of the total separation
between the republican and constitutional parties. At the inns
where she alighted she had some private conversation with
Barnave. The latter said a great deal about the errors com-
mitted by the royalists during the Revolution, adding that he
had found the interest of the court so feebly and so badly
defended that he had been frequently tempted to go and offer
it, in himself, an aspiring champion, who knew the spirit of the
age and nation. The Queen asked him what was the weapon he
would have recommended her to use.

" Popularity, madame."

" And how could I use that," replied her Majesty, " of which
I have been deprived ? "

[

272

CAMPAN

" Ah ! madame, it was much more easy for you to regain it,
than for mc to acquire it."

The Queen mainly attributed the arrest at Varennes to M. de
Goguelat ; she said he calculated the time that would be spent
in the journey erroneously. He performed that from Mont-
medy to Paris before taking the King's last orders, alone in
a post-chaise, and he founded all his calculations upon the time
he spent thus. The trial has been made since, and it was found
that a light carriage without any courier was nearly three
hours less in running the distance than a heavy carriage pre-
ceded by a courier.^

The Queen also blamed him for having quitted the high-road
at Pont-de-Sommevelle, where the carriage was to meet the
forty hussars commanded by him. She thought that he ought
to have dispersed the very small number of people at Varennes,
and not have asked the hussars whether they were for the
King or the nation ; that, particularly, he ought to have avoided
taking the King's orders, as he was previously aware of the
reply M. d'Inisdal had received when it was proposed to carry
oflf the King.

After all that the Queen had said to me respecting the mis-
takes made by M. de Goguelat, I thought him of course dis-
graced. What was my surprise when, having been set at lib-
erty after the amnesty which followed the acceptance of the
Constitution, he presented himself to the Queen, and was re-
ceived with the greatest kindness ! She said he had done
what he could, and that his zeal ought to form an excuse for
all the rest.^

' The flight to Varennes, one of the
most decisive events of the Revolution,
has given birth to a mass of accounts
which contradict or corroborate one an-
other, but all of which have their in-
terest. The accounts of the Marquis
de Bouille, of M. de Fontanges (" Me-
moires de Weber "), of M. le Due de
Choiseul, have already appeared in the
" Collection des Memoires sur la Re-
volution." The second volume of that
collection contains also the private
memoirs of M. le Comte Louis, after-
ward Marquis de Bouille, and the ac-
counts of the Comtes de Raigecourt, de
Damas, and de Valory, who have all
been actors or witnesses in this histori-
cal scene.

* Full details of the preparation for
the flight to Varennes will be found in
" Le Comte de Fersen et La Cour de
France," Paris, Didot et Cie, 1878 (a

review of which was given in the
" Quarterly Review " for July, 1880),
anH in the " Memoirs of the Marquis de
Bouille," London, Cadell and Davis,
^797', Count Fersen being the person
who planned the actual escape, and De
Bouille being in command of the army
which was to receive the King. The
plan was excellent, and would certainly
have succeeded, if it had not been for
the royal family themselves. Marie An-
toinette, it will have been seen by Ma-
dame Campan's account, nearly wrecked
the plan from inability to do without
a large dressing or travelling case.
The King did a more fatal thing. De
Bouille had pointed out the necessity
for having in the King's carriage an
officer knowing the route, and able to
show himself to give all directions, and
a proper person had been provided.
The King, however, objected, as " he

MEMOIRS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 273

When the royal family was brought back from Varennes to
the Tuileries, the Queen's attendants found the greatest diffi-
culty in making their way to her apartments ; everything had
been arranged so that the wardrobe woman, who had acted as
spy, should have the service ; and she was to be assisted in it
only by her sister and her sister's daughter.

M. de Gouvion, M. de La Fayette's aide-de-camp, had this
woman's portrait placed at the foot of the staircase which led
to the Queen's apartments, in order that the sentinel should
not permit any other women to make their way in. As soon as
the Queen was informed of this contemptible precaution, she
told the King of it, who sent to ascertain the fact. His Maj-
esty then called for M. de La Fayette, claimed freedom in his
household, and particularly in that of the Queen, and ordered
him to send a woman in whom no one but himself could con-
fide out of the palace. M. de La Fayette was obliged to comply.

On the day when the return of the royal family was expected,
there were no carriages in motion in the streets of Paris. Five
or six of the Queen's women, after being refused admittance at
all the other gates, went with one of my sisters to that of the
Feuillans, insisting that the sentinel should admit them. The
poissardes attacked them for their boldness in resisting the or-
der excluding them. One of them seized my sister by the arm,
calling her the slave of the Austrian. " Hear me," said my
sister to her, " I have been attached to the Queen ever since I
was fifteen years of age ; she gave me my marriage portion ; I
served her when she was powerful and happy. She is now
unfortunate. Ought I to abandon her?" "She is right,"
cried the poissardes; " she ought not to abandon her mistress ;
let us make an entry for them." They instantly surrounded
the sentinel, forced the passage, and introduced the Queen's
women, accompanying them to the terrace of the Feuillans.
One of these furies, whom the slightest impulse would have
driven to tear my sister to pieces, taking her under her protec-
tion, gave her advice by which she might reach the palace in
safety. " But of all things, my dear friend," said she to her,

could not have the Marquis d'Agoult Bouille," pp. 307 and 334. Thus, when

in the same carriage with himself; the I.ouis was recognized at the window of

governess of the royal children, who the carriage by Drouet, he was lost by

was to accompany them, having refused the very danger that had been fore-

to abandon her privilege of constantly seen, and this wretched piece of eti-

remaining with her charge." See " De quette led to his death.

274 CAMPAN

" pull off that green ribbon sash ; it is the color of that D'Ar-
tois, whom we will never forgive."

The measures adopted for guarding the King were rigorous
with respect to the entrance into the palace, and insulting as to
his private apartments. The commandants of battalion, sta-
tioned in the salon called the grand cabinet, and which led to
the Queen's bedchamber, were ordered to keep the door of it
always open, in order that they might have their eyes upon
the royal family. The King shut this door one day ; the officer
of the guard opened it, and told him such were his orders, and
that he would always open it; so that his Majesty in shutting
it gave himself useless trouble. It remained open even during
the night, when the Queen was in bed ; and the officer placed
himself in an armchair between the two doors, with his head
turned toward her Majesty. They only obtained permission
to have the inner door shut when the Queen was rising. The
Queen had the bed of her first femme de chambre placed very
near her own ; this bed, which ran on casters, and was fur-
nished with curtains, hid her from the officer's sight.

Madame de Jar j aye, my companion, who continued her func-
tions during the whole period of my absence, told me that one
night the commandant of battalion, who slept between the two
doors, seeing that she was sleeping soundly, and that the Queen
was awake, quitted his post and went close to her Majesty, to
advise her as to the line of conduct she should pursue. Al-
though she had the kindness to desire him to speak lower in
order that he might not disturb Madame de Jarjaye's rest, the
latter awoke, and nearly died with fright at seeing a man in
the uniform of the Parisian guard so near the Queen's bed.
Her Majesty comforted her, and told her not to rise ; that the
person she saw was a good Frenchman, who was deceived
respecting the intentions and situation of his sovereign and
herself, but whose conversation showed sincere attachment to
the King.

There was a sentinel in the corridor which runs behind the
apartments in question, where there is a staircase, which was at
that time an inner one, and enabled the King and Queen to
communicate freely. This post, which was very onerous, be-
cause it was to be kept four-and-twenty hours, was often
claimed by Saint Prix, an actor belonging to the Theatre Fran-

MEMOIRS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 275

gais. He took it upon himself sometimes to contrive brief in-
terviews between the King and Queen in this corridor. He
left them at a distance, and gave them warning if he heard the
slightest noise. M. Collot, commandant of battalion of the
National Guard, who was charged with the military duty of
the Queen's household, in like manner softened down, so far
as he could with prudence, all the revolting orders he received ;
for instance, one to follow the Queen to the very door of her
wardrobe was never executed. An officer of the Parisian
guard dared to speak insolently of the Queen in her own apart-
ment. M. Collot wished to make a complaint to M. de La
Fayette against him, and have him dismissed. The Queen
opposed it, and condescended to say a few words of explana-
tion and kindness to the man ; he instantly became one of her
most devoted partisans.

The first time I saw her Majesty after the unfortunate catas-
trophe of the Varennes journey, I found her getting out of
bed ; her features were not very much altered ; but after the
first kind words she uttered to me she took ofif her cap and
desired me to observe the effect which grief had produced upon
her hair. It had become, in one single night, as white as that
of a woman of seventy. Her Majesty showed me a ring she
had just had mounted for the Princesse de Lamballe ; it con-
tained a lock of her whitened hair, with the inscription,
" Blanched by sorrow." At the period of the acceptance of the
Constitution the princess wished to return to France. The
Queen, who had no expectation that tranquillity would be re-
stored, opposed this ; but the attachment of Madame de Lam-
balle to the royal family impelled her to come and seek death.

When I returned to Paris most of the harsh precautions
were abandoned ; the doors were not kept open ; greater respect
was paid to the sovereign ; it was known that the Constitution
soon to be completed would be accepted;, and a better order of
things was hoped for.

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

atiamc i^olanft

MARIE JEANNE PHLIPON, MADAME ROLAND

1754— 1793

Marie Jeanne Phlipon, Madame Roland, was the daughter of Pierre
Gratien Phlipon, an engraver, and was born at Paris, March 17, 1754.
The precocity of her intelligence was remarkable. At the age of four,
she had quite a passion for reading ; at seven, she learned by heart a
treatise on heraldry ; at eight, she used to carry Plutarch with her to
church, while the " Jerusalem Delivered " of Tasso, and the " Telemaque "
of Fenelon fired her childish imagination. At the same time an ardent
piety began to develop itself, and when only eleven she entered the Mai-
son des Dames de la Congregation, in the Faubourg Saint Marcel.
Here she formed a close friendship with two young girls from Amiens,
Henriette and Sophie Cannet, particularly with the latter, which was
fruitful in consequences. On her return to her father's house after the
lapse of two years, "a change came o'er the spirit of her dream." She
no longer cared for the so-called " religious " writers — the defenders of
the Bible and the Church. Her faith was slowly changing from the dog-
matic creed of Bossuet to the " naturalism " of the eitcyclopedistes and
philosophes. In ethics, now as ev^r, her preference for the stoical sys-
tem was marked. Shortly after the death of her mother, in 1773, she
read for the first time "La Nouvelle Heloise," which seemed to her (as
it has to many another young impassioned soul) a veritable revelation.
Greatly distressed by the imprudent conduct of her father, she again
withdrew, at the age of twenty-five, to the Maison des Dames de la
Congregation, and once more attempted an " austere " life ; but M.
Roland, who had already known her for five years, now came forward,
and rescued her from a career which must ultimately have proved equally
unsatisfactory to her reason and conscience, by offering her his hand.
She was twenty-five and he was forty-five. There was certainly some-
thing unpoetical in the disparity of their years, but then. Mademoiselle
Phlipon knew that "ideal" matches were made only in heaven, and so
she accepted calmly the inspector of manufactures. Their marriage was
celebrated February 4, 1780.

It is unnecessary to follow the remainder of her career, which was of
course identical with her husband's until his flight from Paris, May 31,
1793. The same night she was herself arrested, and imprisoned in the
Abbaye. A more dauntless and intrepid spirit never entered its walls !
Released on the twenty-fourth of June, she was instantly rearrested by
the very commissaries who had set her at liberty, without the shadow of
a tangible accusation, and confined in Saint Pelagie. Madame Roland
spent the period of her imprisonment in study, in the composition of her
political " Memoirs." Summoned before the Revolutionary Tribunal in
the beginning of November, she was condemned, and on the ninth was
guillotined, amid the shoutings of an insensate mob. It is said that while
standing on the scaffold, she asked for a pen and paper that she might
" write down the strange thoughts that were passing through her head."
Only a genuine child of the French Republic could have been so osten-
tatiously speculative at such a moment. Still more celebrated is her
apostrophe to the Statue of Liberty, at the foot of which the scaffold was
erected : " O Liberty, what crimes are committed in thy name ! " or,
according to another version, " Liberty, how they have played with thy

name

278

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

THE daughter of an artist, the wife of a man of letters
(who afterward became a minister, and remained an
honest man), now a prisoner, destined perhaps to a
violent and unexpected death, I have been acquainted with
happiness and with adversity, I have seen glory at hand, and I
have experienced injustice.

Born in an obscure station, but of honest parents, I spent
my youth in the bosom of the fine arts, nourished by the
charms of study, and ignorant of all superiority but that of
merit, of all greatness but that of virtue.

Arrived at years of maturity, I lost all hopes of that fortune,
which might have placed me in a condition suitable to the
education I had received. A marriage with a respectable man
appeared to compensate this loss ; it served to lay the founda-
tion of new misfortunes.

A gentle disposition, a strong mind, a solid understanding,
an extremely affectionate heart, and an exterior which an-
nounced these qualities, rendered me dear to all those with
whom I was acquainted. The situation into which I have been
thrown has created me enemies ; personally I have none : to
those who have spoken the worst of me I am utterly unknown.

It is so true that things are seldom what they appear to be,
that the periods of my life in which I have felt the most pleas-
ure, or experienced the greatest vexation, were often the very
contrary of those that others might have supposed : the solu-
tion is, that happiness depends on the affections more than
on events.

It is my purpose to employ the leisure of my captivity in
retracing what has happened to me from my tenderest infancy
to the present moment. Thus to tread over again all the steps
of our career, is to live a second time ; and what, in the gloom

279

28o ROLAND

of a prison, can we do better than to transport our existence
elsewhere by pleasing fictions, or by the recollection of inter-
esting occurrences?

If we gain less experience by acting, than by reflecting on
what we see and do, mine will be greatly augmented by my
present undertaking.

Public afifairs, and my own private sentiments, afforded me
ample matter for thinking, and subjects enough for my pen,
during two months imprisonment, without obliging me to have
recourse to distant times. Accordingly, the first five weeks
were devoted to my " Historic Notices," which formed perhaps
no uninteresting collection. They have just been destroyed ;
and I have felt all the bitterness of a loss, which I shall never
repair. But I should despise myself, could I suffer my mind
to sink in any circumstances whatever. In all the troubles I
have experienced, the most lively impression of sorrow has
been almost immediately accompanied by the ambition of op-
posing my strength to the evil, and of surmounting it, either
by doing good to others, or by exerting my own fortitude
to the utmost. Thus misfortune may pursue, but cannot over-
whelm me ; tyrants may persecute, but never, no never shall
they debase me.

My " Historic Notices " are gone : I mean to write my
" Memoirs " ; and, prudently accommodating myself to my
weakness, at a moment when my feelings are acute, I shall
talk of my own person, that my thoughts may be the less at
home. I shall exhibit my fair and my unfavorable side with
equal freedom. He who dares not speak well of himself is
almost always a coward, who knows and dreads the ill that may
be said of him ; and he who hesitates to confess his faults, has
neither spirit to vindicate, nor virtue to repair them. Thus
frank with respect to myself, I shall not be scrupulous in re-
gard to others : father, mother, friends, husband, I shall paint
them all in their proper colors, or in the colors at least in which
they appeared to me.

While I remained in a quiet and retired station, my natural
sensibility so absorbed my other qualities, that it displayed itself
alone, or governed all the rest. My first objects were to please
and to do good. I was a little like that good man, Mr. De
Gourville, of whom Madame de Sevigne said, that the love of

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 281

his neighbor cut off half his words ; nor was I undeserving of
the character given me by Sainte-Lette, who said, that though
possessed of wit to point an epigram, I never suffered one to
escape my lips.

Since the energy of my character has been unfolded by cir-
cumstances, by political and other storms, my frankness takes
place of everything, without considering too nicely the little
scratches it may give in its way. Still, however, I deal not
in epigrams ; they indicate a mind pleased at irritating others
by satirical observations ; and, as to me, I never yet could find
amusement in killing flies. But I love to do justice by the
utterance of truths, and refrain not from the most severe, in
presence of the parties concerned, without suffering myself to
be alarmed, or moved, or angry, whatever may be the effects
they produce.

Gatien Phlipon, my father, was by profession an engraver;
he also professed painting, and applied himself to that in
enamel, less from taste than expectation of profit : but the
fire which enamelling requires, agreeing neither with his
sight nor his constitution, he was obliged to relinquish that
branch of the art. He confined himself therefore to the first,
the profits of which were moderate. But, though he was in-
dustrious, though the times were favorable to the exercise
of his art, though he had much business, and though he em-
ployed a considerable number of workmen, the desire of mak-
ing a fortune induced him to enter into trade. He purchased
diamonds, and other jewels, or took them in payment from
the tradesmen who employed him, to sell them again when
opportunities might occur. I mention this circumstance, be-
cause I have observed, that ambition is generally fatal to all
classes of men ; for the few whose wishes it crowns with suc-
cess, multitudes become its victims. The example of my father
will afford me more than one application of this maxim. His
art was sufficient to procure him a comfortable subsistence;
he went in pursuit of riches, and met with ruin on his way.

Strong and healthy, active and vain, he loved his wife, and
was fond of dress. Without learning, he had that superficial
degree of taste and knowledge which the fine arts never fail
to give, however inferior the line in which they are pursued.
Accordingly, in spite of his regard for wealth, and whatever

282 ROLAND

could procure it, though he trafficked with tradesmen, he
formed connections with artists, painters, and sculptors alone.
He led a very regular life while his ambition was kept within
bounds, and had suffered no reverse of fortune. He could
not be said to be a virtuous man, but he had a great deal of what
is called honor. He would have had no objection to selling
a thing for more than it was worth, but he would have killed
himself rather than not pay the stipulated price of what he had
agreed to purchase.

Margaret Bimont, his wife, brought him, as a dower, very
little money, but a heavenly mind, and a charming figure.
The eldest of six children, to whom she had been a second
mother, she married at six-and-twenty, on-ly to resign her
place to her sisters. Her affectionate heart and captivating
mind ought to have procured her an union with a man of deli-
cate feelings and an enlightened understanding; but her par-
ents proposed to her an honest man, whose talents insured
her a subsistence, and her reason accepted him. Instead of
that happiness, which she could not expect, she was sensible
that she should be able to attain domestic quiet, its most de-
sirable substitute. It is a proof of wisdom to be able to con-
tract our desires: enjoyments are always more rare than is
imagined; but virtue is never without its consolation.

I was their second child. My father and mother had seven ;
but all the rest died at nurse, or from accidents in coming into
the world ; and my mother sometimes took a pleasure in re-
marking, that I was the only one from whom she had expe-
rienced no disaster; for her delivery had been as happy as her
pregnancy : it seemed as if I had contributed to establish her
health.

An aunt of my father selected for me, in the neighborhood
of Arpajon, whither she made frequent excursions in the sum-
mer, a healthy and well-disposed nurse, who was much es-
teemed in the place, and the more so, because her husband's
brutality rendered her unhappy, without making her alter her
disposition or her conduct. Madame Besnard (for that was the
name of my great-aunt) had no children ; her husband was my
godfather ; and they both looked upon me as their own daugh-
ter. Their kindness to me has been constant and invariable;
they arc still alive, and in the decline of life are overwhelmed

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 283

with sorrow, lamenting the fate of their darling niece, in whom
they had placed their hopes and their glory. Aged and re-
spectable friends, be comforted : it is given to few to complete
their career in that silence and tranquillity which attend you.
I am not unequal to the misfortunes that assail me, nor shall
I ever cease to honor your virtues.

The vigilance of my nurse was encouraged or recompensed
by the kindness of my good relations ; her zeal and success
procured her the friendship of my whole family ; nor did she,
as long as she lived, ever suffer two years to elapse, without
taking a journey to Paris, on purpose to see me. She hastened
to me when she heard that a cruel death had deprived me of
my mother. I still recollect her sudden appearance : I was
confined to my bed with affliction ; and as her presence recalled
a recent calamity, the first misfortune of my life, very forcibly
to my mind, I fell into convulsions, which terrified her to such
a degree, that she withdrew, and I saw her no more : soon
after she died. I had been to visit her at the cottage in which
she suckled me, and listened with emotion to the tales which
her good-natured simplicity took a pleasure in telling, while
pointing out the places I had preferred, and relating the tricks
I had played her, with the frolicsome gayety of which she was
still entertained. — At two years of age I was brought home
to my father's. I have frequently been told of the surprise
I testified at the lighting of the lamps, which I called " pretty
bottles ! " These little anecdotes, and others of equal impor-
tance, interesting to nurses, and fit only to be related to uncles
and aunts, shall be passed over in silence ; nor will it be ex-
pected that I should here depict a little brunette, of two years
of age, whose dark hair fell in graceful ringlets over a face
animated with a glowing complexion, and breathing the happi-
ness of that age of which it wore the ruddy livery. I know a
better moment for drawing my portrait, and I am not so inju-
dicious as to anticipate it here.

The discretion, and other excellent qualities, of my mother,
soon gave her an ascendancy over my mild and affectionate
disposition, which she never employed but for my good. So
great was this ascendancy, that, in those little disputes, una-
voidable between authoritative reason and resisting infancy, she
never found it necessary to inflict any other punishment than

284 ROLAND

that of gravely calling me Mademoiselle, and fixing on me an
eye of reproof. I still feel the impression made upon me by
her look, at other times so affectionate ; I still hear, with a
palpitating heart, the word Mademoiselle substituted, with
heart-rending dignity, for the kind name of daughter, or the
elegant appellation of Manon. Yes, Manon ; for so I was
called. I am sorry for the lovers of romance : there is certainly
nothing noble in the name, nor is it at all suitable to a heroine
of the lofty kind ; but it was mine ; and, as an historian, I
cannot disguise the truth — beside, the ears of the most delicate
would have been reconciled to this name, had they heard it
pronounced by my mother, and seen the object to which it
was addressed. What expression could want elegance, when
conveyed in her affectionate tones? And when her touching
voice made its way to my heart, did it not teach me to resemble
so amiable a parent?

Lively, without being turbulent or troublesome, and natu-
rally of a reflective turn of mind, I desired nothing more than
to be employed, and readily laid hold of every idea that was
held out to me. This disposition was turned to so good ac-
count, that I never remember having been taught to read.
I have been told, that at four years old the business was in a
manner completed, and that the trouble of teaching me was
over at that epoch, since all that was in future necessary,
was not to let me want a supply of books. Whatever they
were that were put into my hands, or that I could anywhere
meet with, they were sure to engross all my attention, which
could no longer be called away by anything but a nosegay.
The sight of a flower delights my imagination, and flatters my
senses to an inexpressible degree ; it awakens me to a luxurious
consciousness of my existence. Under the tranquil shelter of
my paternal roof, I was happy from my infancy with flowers
and books : in the narrow confines of a prison, amid the chains
imposed by the most shocking tyranny, I forget the injustice
of men, their follies, and my misfortunes, with books and
flowers.

It was too good an opportunity of making me acquainted
with the Old and New Testaments, and with the catechism,
both great and small, to be neglected, I learned everything
it was thought proper to give me, and should have repeated

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 285

the Koran had I been taught to read it. I remember a painter
of the name of Guibol, who afterward settled at Studgard, and
whose panegyric on Poussin, which obtained the prize from the
Academy of Rouen, fell into my hands a few years ago. He
used to come frequently to my father's, and was a merry
fellow, who told me many extravagant tales, which I have not
forgotten, and by which I was exceedingly amused; nor was
he less diverted with making me display my slender stock of
knowledge in my turn. I think I see him now, with a figure
bordering on the grotesque, sitting in an armed chair, taking
me between his knees, on which I rested my elbows, and mak-
ing me repeat St. Athanasius's creed ; then rewarding my com-
pliance with the story of Tanger, whose nose was so long, that
he was obliged, when he walked, to twist it round his arm :
this is not the most absurd contrast that might be exhibited.

When seven years old, I was sent every Sunday to the parish
church, to attend catechism, as it is called, in order to prepare
me for confirmation. From the present course of things, it is
possible that they who read this passage may ask what I mean.
I will inform them. In the corner of a church, chapel, or char-
nel-house, a few rows of chairs, or benches, extending to a cer-
tain length, were placed opposite to each other. A sufficient
opening was reserved in the middle, in which was placed a seat
somewhat higher than the rest. This was the curule chair of
the young priest, whose office it was to instruct the children
that attended. They were made to repeat by heart the epistle
and gospel for the day, the collect, and such a portion of the
catechism as was appointed for their weekly task. When the
children were numerous, the catechizing priest had a little
clerk, who heard them repeat their lessons, while the master
took upon himself to explain the questions essential to the
subject.

In some parishes the children of both sexes attended to-
gether, and were only placed on separate forms ; but in general
their hours of instruction were entirely distinct. The pious
matrons to whom the children belonged, always greedy of the
bread of the Word, however coarsely prepared, were present
at these lectures, seated according to their ages, as well as at
the preparation for being confirmed, and receiving the first
communion. The zealous pastors also occasionally made their

286 ROLAND

appearance amid their young flock, who were taught to rise
respectfully at their approach. They put a few questions to
the best dressed, in order to ascertain the progress they had
made. The mothers of those who were interrogated, were
pufifed up with pride at the distinctiion, and the reverend pas-
tor withdrew in the midst of their obeisances.

Mr. Garat, the rector of my parish, which was St. Bartholo-
mew's, within the precinct of what was then called the city —
a good sort of man, said to be very learned, though he could
not deliver two words of common sense from the pulpit, in
which he had the rage of exhibiting himself, much in the same
manner as Mr. Garat, minister of state, is reputed a man of abil-
ity, though totally ignorant of his trade — Mr. Garat, my rector,
came one day to the catechism; and, in order to sound the depth
of my theological erudition, and display his own sagacity, asked
me how many, orders of spirits there were in the celestial hier-
archy. From the ironical tone and air of triumph with which
he put the question, I was persuaded that he expected to puzzle
me. I answered, with a smile, that, though many were enu-
merated in the preface to the Missal, I had found from other
books that there were nine; and so I marshalled before him
in their proper order, the whole host of angels, archangels,
thrones, dominions, etc. Never was priest so satisfied with
the knowledge of his neophyte : it was quite enough to establish
my reputation among all the devout matrons ; and, accordingly,
I became a chosen vessel, as hereafter will appear.

Some persons will perhaps say, that, with my mother's cau-
tion and good sense, it is astonishing that she should have
sent me to these catechisms : but there is a reason for every-
thing. My mother had a younger brother, an ecclesiastic be-
longing to her parish, to whose care was committed the cate-
chism of confirmation, to use the technical term. The presence
of his niece was an admirable example, calculated to induce
those who were not of what is called the lower order of the peo-
ple, to send their children also : a circumstance that could not
fail to be pleasing to the rector. Beside, I had a memory which
was sure to secure me the first rank ; and everything else about
me supporting this kind of superiority, my parents gratified
their vanity, while appearing only to pursue the path of hu-
mility.

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 287

It happened, that, in the distribution of prizes, which took
place, with no small parade, at the end of the year, I obtained
the first, without the least partiality being shown me : on this,
all the grave churchwardens, and all the reverend clergy of the
parish, congratulated my uncle ; who, in consequence of my
success, began to be more noticed, which was all that was
necessary to prepossess everyone in his favor. A handsome
person, the greatest good-nature, an easy temper, the most
gentle manners, and the utmost gayety, attended him to these
latter times, when he died a canon of Vincennes, just as the
Revolution was about to abolish all ecclesiastical dignities. It
seemed to me, as if I had lost the last of my relations on the
maternal side, nor can I recollect a single circumstance respect-
ing him without emotion. My eagerness to learn, and quick-
ness of apprehension, suggested to him the idea of teaching me
Latin. I was delighted with it; for it was a feast to me to
find a new subject of study.

I had at home masters for writing, geography, dancing, and
music ; and my father had made me begin drawing : but in
all this I was far from finding an excess of occupation. Rising
at five in the morning, when everybody in the house was asleep,
I stole softly, in my bed-gown, regardless of shoes or stockings,
to a corner of my mother's chamber, where was the table on
which my books were laid ; and there I copied or repeated my
lessons with such assiduity, that my progress was astonishing.
My masters became in consequence more affectionate ; gave
me long lessons ; and took such an interest in my instruction,
as called forth on my part additional attention. I had not a
single master who did not appear as much flattered by teaching
me, as I was grateful for being taught ; nor one who, after
attending me for a year or two, was not the first to say, that
his instructions were no longer necessary, and that he ought
no longer to be paid ; but that he should be glad of permission
to visit my parents in order to converse with me now and
then.

I shall ever honor the memory of the good Mr. Marchand,
who, when I was five years old, taught me to write, and after-
ward instructed me in geography and history. He was a dis-
creet, patient, clear-headed, and methodical personage, to whom
I gave the nickname of Mr. Demure. I saw him married to

288 ROLAND

a worthy woman, a dependent of the family of Nesle ; and went
to visit him in his last sickness, when a fit of the gout, trans-
lated to his chest by an injudicious bleeding, occasioned his
death at the age of fifty — I was then eighteen.

I have not forgotten my music-master, Cajon, a little, lively,
talkative being, born at Macon, where he had been a sing-
ing-boy. He was afterward by turns a soldier, a deserter,
a Capuchin friar, a clerk in a counting-house, and lastly a
vagrant, arriving at Paris with his wife and children without a
penny in his pocket ; but he had a very pleasing counter-voice,
rarely to be met with in men who have not undergone a cer-
tain operation, and admirably adapted to the teaching of young
persons to sing. Introduced to my father, I know not by
whom, he had me for his first scholar. He bestowed on me
considerable pains : frequently borrowed money of my parents,
which was soon spent ; never returned me a collection of lessons
by Bordier, which he plundered with so much art, as to com-
pile from it the " Elements of Music," that he published in his
own name ; lived in great style without being rich, and, at the
end of fifteen years, terminated his career by quitting Paris,
where he had contracted heavy debts, and by repairing to
Russia, where I know not what became of him.

Of Mozon, the dancing-master, an honest Savoyard, fright-
fully ugly, whose wen I think I still see embellishing his right
cheek while he inclined his pock-fretted and flat-nosed visage
to the left on his instrument, I might relate some humorous
anecdotes ; as well as of poor Mignard, my master for the
guitar, a sort of Spanish Colossus, whose hands resembled
those of Esau, and who, in gravity, overstrained politeness,
and rodomontade, was inferior to none of his countrymen.

The timid Wattin, of fifty years of age, whose periwig, spec-
tacles, and carbuncled face, seemed all in commotion while he
was placing the fingers of his little scholar on the violoncello,
and teaching her to hold her bow, did not continue long with
me : but, on the other hand, the Reverend Father Colomb, a
Barnabite, formerly a missionary, superior of his convent at
the age of seventy-five, and my mother's confessor, sent his
bass viol to her house to console me for the desertion of my
master of the violoncello, and when he came to see us, accom-
panied me himself while I played on my guitar. He was not

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 289

a little astonished, when one day, taking up his bass, I played
a few airs that I had studied in private with tolerable execution.
Had there been a double-bass in the house, I should have got
up in a chair to try and make something of it. To avoid an-
achronism, however, it must be observed, that I am here an-
ticipating things, and that I am arrived in my narrative at the
period only of seven years, to which I return.

I have advanced thus far without noticing my father's influ-
ence over my education. It was indeed trifling, for he inter-
fered in it but little ; but it may not be amiss to relate an
occurrence that induced him to interfere still less.

I was extremely obstinate ; that is to say, I did not readily
consent to anything of which I saw not the reason ; and when
the exercise of authority alone appeared, or I fancied that I
perceived the dictates of caprice, I could not submit. My
mother, sagacious and discreet, rightly judged that I must
be governed by reason, or drawn by the cords of affection;
and, treating me accordingly, experienced no opposition to
her will. My father, hasty in his manner, issued his orders
imperiously, and my compliance was either reluctant, or wholly
withheld. If, despot-like, he attempted to punish me, his gen-
tle little daughter was converted into a lion. On two or three
occasions while he was whipping me, I bit the thigh across
which I was laid, and protested against his injunctions. One
day, when I was a little indisposed, it was thought proper that
I should take physic. The nauseous draught was brought me ;
and I put it to my lips ; but the smell alone made me reject
it with abhorrence. My mother made use of all her influence
to overcome my repugnance ; she inspired me with the desire
of obeying her; and I sincerely did my best; but every time
the horrid potion approached my nose, my senses revolted,
and made me turn aside my head. My mother fatigued her-
self to no purpose ; I wept both for her sufferings and my own,
and became still less capable of complying with her will.

My father came, put himself into a passion, and, ascribing
my resistance to stubbornness, recurred to the remedy of the
rod. From that instant all desire of obedience vanished, and
I declared that I would not take the medicine at all. A violent
uproar, repeated threats, and a second whipping, followed. I
was only the more indignant, uttering terrible cries, lifting up
19

290

ROLAND

my eyes to heaven, and preparing- to throw away the draught
which they were about to present to me again. My gestures
betrayed me ; and my father, in a rage, threatened to whip me
a third time. I feel, while I write this, the revolution, and de-
velopment of fortitude, which took place in my mind. My
tears ceased at once to flow, my sobbings were at an end, and
a sudden calm concentrated my faculties into a single resolu-
tion. I raised myself, turned to the bedside, leaned my head
against the wall, and exposed myself to the rod in silence.
My father might have killed me on the spot, without drawing
from me a single sigh.

My mother, who was dreadfully agitated by the scene, and
who stood in need of all her prudence not to increase my
father's rage, at last got him out of the room : she then put
me to bed without saying a word ; and, when I had rested two
hours, returned, and conjured me, with tears in her eyes, to
give her no further vexation, but to take the medicine. I
looked steadfastly in her face, took the glass, and swallowed it
at a draught. In a quarter of an hour, however, it was thrown
up again ; and I was seized with a violent paroxysm of fever,
which it was found necessary to cure by other means than by
nauseous drugs or by the rod. I was at that time little more
than six years old.

All the circumstances of this scene are as present to my
mind, all the sensations I experienced as distinct to my imagina-
tion, as if they had recently occurred. It was the same inflexi-
ble firmness that I have since felt on great and trying occasions ;
nor would it at this moment cost me more to ascend un-
dauntedly the scaffold, than it did then to resign myself to
brutal treatment, which might have killed, but could not con-
quer me.

From that instant my father never laid his hand upon me :
nor did he even undertake to reprimand me ; but, on the con-
trary, caressed me frequently, taught me to draw, took me
out to walk, and treated me with a kindness that rendered him
more respectable in my eyes, and insured him my entire sub-
mission. The seventh anniversary of my birth was celebrated
as the attainment of the age of reason, when it might be ex-
pected of me to follow its dictates. This was a politic sort of
plea for observing toward me a more respectful treatment, that

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 291

should give me confidence in myself, without exciting my
vanity. My days flowed gently on in domestic quiet and in
great activity of mind. My mother was almost always at
home, and received little company. Two days in the week
however we went abroad ; once to visit my father's relations,
and once, which was on Sunday, to see my grandmother
Bimont, to go to church, and to take a walk.

The visit to my grandmother always took place as soon
as vespers were over. She was a corpulent but handsome
woman, who at an early age had suffered an attack of the
palsy, from which her understanding had sustained a perma-
nent injury. From that time she had gradually declined into
a state of dotage, spending her days in her easy-chair, either
at the window or the fireside, according to the season. An
old servant, who had been forty years in the family, had the
care of her. The servant, whose name was Mary, regularly
upon my entrance, gave me my afternoon's repast. So far
all wxnt well ; but when that was over, I grew dreadfully tired
of the visit. I sought for books ; could find none but the
Psalter; and, for want of better, have twenty times read over
the French, and chanted the Latin. When I was gay, my
grandmother would weep ; if I fell down, or got a blow, she
would burst into a fit of laughter. That did not please me. It
was in vain to tell me it was the effect of her disease : I did not
find it on that account the less disagreeable. I could have
borne with her laughing at me, but she never shed tears with-
out their being accompanied by cries at once grievous and
imbecile, which rent my heart and inspired me with terror.

In the mean time old Mary indulged herself to her heart's
content in the garrulity of age, with my mother, who con-
sidered it as a sacred duty to pass two hours with hers, while
complaisantly listening to the servant's tales. This was no
doubt a painful exercise of my patience ; but I was forced to
submit ; for one day, when I cried for vexation, and begged
to go away, my mother, as a punishment, stayed the whole
evening. Nor did she fail, at proper times, to represent her
assiduity as a strict and becoming duty, in which it was honora-
ble for me to participate. I know not how she managed it,
but my heart received the lesson with emotion. When the
Abbe Bimont could meet us at his mother's, my joy was inex-

292 ROLAND

pressible. That dear little uncle made me dance, and sing,
and play ; but unfortunately it was seldom in his power, as
he was master of the choristers, and much confined to the
house. This brings to my mind one of his pupils, a lad of a
prepossessing countenance, whom he was fond of praising,
because he was the scholar that gave him the least trouble.
His promising disposition obtained him, a few years after,
an exhibition at some college, and he is now no other than the
Abbe Noel, known at first by some little productions, em-
ployed afterward by the Minister Le Brun in the diplomatic
line, envoy last year at London, and now in Italy.

My studies completely occupied my days, which seemed
very short; for I had never time to get through all that I
was inclined to undertake. Together with the elementary
books, with which care had been taken to supply me, I soon
exhausted all those that the little family library contained.
I devoured every volume, and began the same over again,
when no new ones were to be got. I remember two folio lives
of the saints, a Bible of the same size in an old version, a
translation of Appian's civil wars, and a description of Turkey
written in a wretched style, all of which I read over and over
again. I also found the " Comical Romance of Scarron " ;
some collections of pretended bon-mots, on which I did not
bestow a second perusal ; the memoirs of the brave De Pontis,
which diverted me much; those of Mademoiselle de Mont-
pensier, whose pride did not displease me ; and several other
antiquated works ; the contents, binding, and spots of which
I have still before my eyes. The passion for learning possessed
me indeed to such a degree, that, having picked up a treatise
on the art of heraldry, I set myself instantly to study it. It
had colored plates, with which I was diverted, and I was glad
to know the names of all the little figures they contained. My
father was astonished when, soon after, I gave him a specimen
of my science, by making some remarks on a seal that was
not engraved agreeably to the rules of art. On this subject
I became his oracle, nor did I ever mislead him. A short
treatise on contracts fell into my hands ; and this also I en-
deavored to learn ; for I read nothing which I was not desirous
of retaining : but it tired me so soon, that I did not get to the
fourth chapter.

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

293

The Bible had pecuhar attraction for me, and I returned
frequently to its perusal. In the old translations it speaks as
plain a language as that of the sons of Esculapius ; and certain
crude and simple expressions struck me so forcibly, that they
have never since escaped my memory. Hence I derived in-
formation not usually given to girls of my age ; but I saw it in
a light that was far from seducing. I had too much employ-
ment for my thoughts to dwell upon things of a mere material
nature, that seemed to me to have nothing attractive about
them. I could not however help laughing, when my grand-
mama talked to me of little children dug out of the parsley-
bed ; and I used to say that my Ave Maria informed me they
came from another place, without troubling my head how
they got there.

In rummaging the house I found a source of reading which
I husbanded for a considerable time. What my father called
his workshop was adjoining to the apartment where I usually
sat, which was a handsome room, that might not improperly
have been styled a drawing-room, but which my mother mod-
estly called a parlor, neatly furnished, and ornamented with
looking-glasses and a few pictures. It was here I received
my lessons. The recess on one side -of the fireplace was con-
verted into a light closet, in which was placed a bed, so con-
fined for want of room that I was obliged to get into it at the
foot ; a chair, a small table, and a few shelves. That was my
sanctuary. On the opposite side was a large room, serving
as a workshop, my father having placed in it his bench, various
pieces of sculpture, and the different instruments of his art.
Thither I used to steal in an evening, or at hours of the day
when all were absent.

I had there remarked a recess where one of the young men
kept his books ; a volume of which I carried off at a time, and
hastened to my little closet to devour it, taking great care
to put it in its place again, without saying a word of the
matter to anyone. They were in general very good books.
One day I perceived that my mother had made the same dis-
covery as myself. Recognizing a volume in her hands which
had previously passed through mine, I no longer felt myself
under any restraint ; and, without telling a falsehood, but at the
same time without saying a word concerning what had passed.

294 ROLAND

I seemed to be only following her example. The young man,
whose name was Courson, to which he afterward prefixed the
de, when he contrived to get into place at Versailles as
teacher to the pages, did not at all resemble his comrades :
he was not destitute of politeness, was decent in his demeanor,
and fond of study. He said nothing of the occasional disap-
pearance of his books ; so that it seemed as if there were a
tacit agreement between all the parties.

In this way I read a great many volumes of travels, of which
I was passionately fond, among others, those of Renard, which
were the first ; some plays of second-rate authors, and Dacier's
Plutarch. This last work was more to my taste than anything
I had yet seen, not excepting even pathetic stories, which how-
ever affected me much ; as for instance, that of the unfortunate
couple, by Labedoyere, which is still present to my mind,
although I have never read it since that early period. But
Plutarch seemed to be exactly the intellectual food that suited
me. I shall never forget the Lent of 1763, at which time I
was nine years of age, when I carried it to church instead of
the exercises of the Holy Week. It is from that period
that I may date the impressions and ideas which rendered
me a republican, without my dreaming of ever becom-
ing one.

" Telemachus," and " Jerusalem Delivered," interfered a little
with the current of these majestic thoughts. The tender
Fenelon moved my heart, and Tasso fired my imagination.
Sometimes I read aloud at my mother's request, of which I
was by no means fond, as it diverted me from that close
attention which constituted my delight, and obliged me to
proceed with less rapidity. But I would have plucked out my
tongue rather than have read in that manner the episodes of
the Island of Calypso, and a number of passages in Tasso.
My respiration quickened, a sudden glow overspread my
countenance, and an agitation followed, which my faltering
voice would have betrayed. With Telemachus I was Eucharis,
and Herminia with Tancred. Completely transformed into
these heroines, I thought not as yet of being something myself
with some other personage. None of my reflections came
home to me. I looked around me for nothing. I was the
very characters themselves, and saw only the objects which

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 295

existed on their account. It was a kind of waking dream,
that led to nothing more substantial.

I recollect, however, having seen with considerable emotion
a young painter of the name of Taboral, who came occasionally
to my father's house. He was about twenty, his voice was
soft, his features languishing, and he blushed like a girl. When
I heard him in the workshop, I had always a crayon or some-
thing else to seek; but as the sight of him embarrassed no
less than it pleased me, I ran out again more speedily than I
entered, with a palpitation of my heart and a trembling of
my limbs that I hastened to conceal in my little closet. I
can readily believe, that, with such a disposition, assisted by
leisure and a certain kind of company, both my imagination
and my person might have ' been greatly affected.

The works of which I have been speaking gave place to
others, which softened the powerful impressions they had
produced. Some of the writings of Voltaire served to operate
this diversion. One day, when I was reading " Candide," my
mother having deserted her party of piquet, the lady with
whom she was playing calling me from the corner in which
I was sitting, desired to see the book I had in my hand; and
on my mother's return expressed her astonishment at the nature
of my studies. My mother, without making any answer, con-
tented herself with merely ordering me to carry it back to the
place whence it came. I cast an evil eye upon this woman,
of forbidding countenance, monstrous rotundity of waist, and
affected importance ; nor from that day forward did I ever
bestow a smile upon Madame Charbonne. My good mother,
however, made no alteration in her truly unaccountable con-
duct, but permitted me to read all the books I could lay my
hands on, without seeming to attend to them, though she
knew very well what they were. I must observe at the same
time, that no immoral publication ever came in my way; and
even now I am only acquainted with the titles of two or three ;
the taste I have acquired having ever prevented my feeling
the smallest temptation to procure them.

As I preferred books to everything else, my father some-
times made me presents of that kind ; but, piquing himself, as
he did, on seconding my propensity to serious studies, his
choice was whimsical : he gave me, for instance, Fenelon on

296 ROLAND

female education, and Locke on that of children in general ;
thus putting into the hands of the pupil what were designed
for the tutor. I am persuaded, however, that the incongruity
was not unproductive of benefit, and that chance perhaps
served me better than the usual considerations of propriety
would have done. I was very forward for my age ; I loved to
reflect ; I thought seriously of improving myself ; that is to
say, I studied the movements of my mind ; I sought to know
myself ; and I felt that I had a destination which it was requisite
I should enable myself to fill. Religious notions began to fer-
ment in my brain, and soon produced a violent explosion.
But before I describe them, it may be proper for my reader
to know what became of my Latin.

The first rudiments of grammar were well arranged in my
head. I declined nouns and conjugated verbs, though it ap-
peared to me tiresome enough ; but the hope of being able on
some future day to read in that language the admirable produc-
tions of which I heard so much, and of which my books
afiforded me some idea, gave me resolution to get through
the dry and difificult task. It was not thus with my little uncle,
for so I called the Abbe Bimont. Young, good-humored,
indolent, and gay, giving not the smallest trouble to anybody,
caring little to give himself any for others, and heartily tired
of his trade of pedagogue with the choristers ; he liked better
lO take a walk with me than to give me a lesson, and to make
ri'.e laugh and play, than to hear me repeat my rudiments. He
w: s far from being punctual either as to the hour or the day
of coming to our house, and a thousand circumstances com-
bined to procrastinate his lessons. I was desirous, however,
of learning, and loath to relinc|uish what I had once begun.
It was therefore resolved upon, that I should go to him three
mornings a week ; but he was too giddy to keep himself at
liberty to devote a few moments to my instruction. I was
sure to find him either busied in parish afifairs, diverting him-
self with his boys, or breakfasting with a friend. I lost my
time, the winter season came on, and my Latin was abandoned.
From that attempt I have preserved only a sort of glimmering
or instinct of knowledge, which, during the days of devotion,
enabled me to repeat or chant the psalms without being abso-
lutely ignorant of what I was saying, and a considerable facility

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 297

for the study of languages in general, particularly the Italian,
which I learned a few years after, without a master, and with-
out difficulty.

My father took but little pains to forward me in drawing:
he rather amused himself with my aptitude, than endeavored
to give me extraordinary talents. A few words that dropped
in a conversation with my mother, gave me to understand that,
from prudential motives, she was not desirous of my making
any great proficiency in the art. " I would not have her be-
come a painter," said she ; " it would require an intercom-
munity of studies, and connections that we can very well dis-
pense with." I was also set to engrave ; learned to hold the
graver, and got over the first difficulties in a short time; for
nothing came amiss to me.

On the birthdays of my good old relations, which were
always religiously celebrated, I carried for my present, either
a pretty head, which I had been at great pains to draw for
the occasion, or a neat little copper-plate, on which I had en-
graved a flower, with a compliment beneath, written with
great care, and in verses hammered out by Mr. Demure. In
return- I received almanacs,^ which greatly amused me, and
presents of such little articles as were adapted to my use, in
general ornaments of dress, of which I was very fond. My
mother took a pleasure in seeing me fine. In her own dress
she was plain, and frequently even negligent ; but her daughter
was her doll, and from my early infancy I was dressed with a
degree of elegance, and even richness, that seemed unsuitable
to my condition. Young ladies at that time wore what was
called a corps-de-robe, a dress resembling court robes, and
fitting very closely at the waist, of which it displayed the form
to advantage, but full below, with a long train that swept the
ground, adorned with diflferent trimmings, according to the
taste of the wearer. Mine were of fine silk, of some simple
pattern and modest color, but in price and quality equal to
my mother's best gala suits. My toilet was a grievous business
to me, for my hair was frequently frizzed, papered, and tortured
with hot irons, and all the other ridiculous and barbarous im-

''■ French almanacs are very different " I'Almanach des Muses," containing a

from the English: most of them are mixture of fugitive pieces in prose and

without calendars, such as " TAImanach verse, etc.
Chantant," consisting entirely of songs;

298 ROLAND

plements at that time in use. My head was so extremely-
tender, and the pulHng I was obHged to undergo so painful,
that, upon occasions of full dress, my sufferings always forced
tears from my eyes, although I uttered no complaint.

Methinks I hear it asked, for whose eyes, in the retired
life I led, was all this finery intended? They who ask the
question ought to recollect, that I went out two days in the
week ; and if they were acquainted with the manners of what
was at that time called the bourgeoisie of Paris, they must know
there were thousands of them whose expense in dress, by no
means small, had no other object, than an exhibition of a few
hours on Sunday in the Tuileries ; to which their wives joined
the display of their finery at church, and the pleasure of parad-
ing their own quarter of the town, before their admiring neigh-
bors. Add to this, family visits on great festivals, New Year's
day, weddings and christenings, and there will be found suf-
ficient opportunities for the gratification of vanity. By the
way, more than one contrast may be observed in my edu-
cation.

The young lady, exhibited on Sundays at church, and in
the public walks, in an elegant dress, who you would have
supposed to be just alighted from a carriage, and whose de-
meanor and language were perfectly consonant to her appear-
ance, would go nevertheless to market in the week with her
mother, in a linen frock, or would step into the street alone,
to buy a little parsley or salad, which the servant had forgotten.
It must be confessed, I was not much pleased with it ; but I
showed no signs of dislike, and acquitted myself of my com-
mission in such a way as to render it agreeable. I behaved
with so much civility, and at the same time with so much
dignity, that the fruiterer, or other shopkeeper, took a pleasure
in serving me first ; and yet those who came before me were
never offended : I was sure to pick up some compliment or
other in the way, which only served to make me more polite.
The same child, who read systematic works, who could explain
the circles of the celestial sphere, handle the crayon and the
graver, and who, at eight years of age, was the best dancer
in the youthful parties that met occasionally to assist at some
little family festival, was frequently called into the kitchen to
make an omelet, pick herbs, or skim the pot. That mixture

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

299

of serious studies, agreeable relaxations, and domestic cares,
properly ordered, and rendered agreeable by my mother's good
management, made me fit for everything, seemed to forebode
the vicissitudes of my fortune, and enabled me to support them.
In every place I am at home : I can prepare my own dinner
with as much address as Philopoemen cut wood ; but no one
seeing me so engaged, would think it an office in which I
ought to be employed.

It may be supposed, from what I have already related, that
my mother did not neglect what is called religion. She was
pious without being a bigot; she had faith, or endeavored to
have faith ; and conformed her conduct to the rules of the
Church with the humility and regularity of a person who,
finding it necessary for her peace of mind to adopt great
principles, does not hesitate at trifling details. The respectful
air with which the first notions of religion had been presented
to me, had disposed me to receive them with attention. They
were of a nature calculated to make considerable impression
on a lively imagination ; and notwithstanding the troublesome
doubts frequently excited by my infant reason, which regarded
with surprise the transformation of the devil into a serpent,
and thought it cruel in God to have permitted it, I at last be-
lieved and adored.

I had received confirmation with the deep attention of a
mind that calculates the importance of its actions, and meditates
on its duties. The preparing me for my first communion was
talked of, and I felt a sacred terror take possession of my soul.

I read books of devotion ; I was seized with an irresistible
desire to employ my mind about the great objects of eternal
misery and happiness ; and, by insensible degrees, all my
thoughts centred in those points. Religious ideas gained a
complete ascendance over my heart, and concurred with my
natural forwardness in bringing on the reign of sentiment
before its time. It began with the love of God, the sublime
raptures of which rendered the first years of my adolescence
safe and happy, resigned the rest to the care of philosophy,
and seemed likely to protect me forever from the storm of
those passions, from which, with a constitution as vigorous
as that of a prize-fighter, it is with difficulty that I preserve
my riper age.

300

ROLAND

The fit of devotion which agitated me, produced an aston-
isliing alteration in my mind. I became profoundly humble
and inexpressibly timid. I looked upon men with a sort of
terror, which increased when any of them struck me as amiable.
I watched over my thoughts with extreme scrupulosity ; the
least profane image that ofifered itself to my mind, however
confusedly, seemed a crime. I contracted such a habit of
reserve, that, perusing " Bufifon's Natural History " at the
age of sixteen, when no longer a devotee, I skipped the
article Man, and turned over the plates relating to it, with
the speed and terror of a person who sees a precipice beneath
his feet. In short, I did not marry till I was twenty-five ; and
with a heart such as may be imagined, senses highly inflam-
mable, and considerable information as to several points, I
had so well avoided all knowledge concerning one circum-
stance, that the consequences of marriage were as surprising
to me as they were unpleasant.

CHOICE EXAMPLES OF PALEOGRAPHY.

Fac-similes from Rare and Curious Manuscripts of the

Middle Ages.

A PAGE FROM THE HISTORY OF LIVY.

Latin manuscript, written about the Sixth Century.

The page here reproduced from the Roman History of Titus Livius is the be-
ginning of the first chapter of the forty-second decade. The ban pronounced upon
the works of the Roman historian at the end of the sixth century was evidently not
effective, since the date of this manuscript, from the internal evidence afforded by
its script, is fixed at that era. The two lines in red at the top of the plate read :
" L. Postumius Albinus M. Popilius La;nas cum omnium primum de provinciis,"
ef*^

V1« «VIt

tV56K.CftlBUSXB5«£HMUO^R^trulf5.<€M

V1X.<XtV»B0C|U»^U>-6>0"»fR0UlNCIXO1

li>*t>dCR<ftx^^t>'OC»umUt»HiNOt^'»iNiir

r<^ »M tU«r>^»<.0<^^XNOR.UO'» 5C K.) B^ R^ Mr

^rcv^qM»r<i.<xi>hoco^»Ue^Txpeif

CC5Cn.1BT1U5.CXCUO^q.UtBU.<PR'CUI
.<^K^fNINOB^ICf55tfT1MCOft<ICXO->

T fi xn.<c;k.6$5U5 $ tf I lucr>c,tf fce »;^t »M

^^ »H^erK,0U11Sc1X5^0^ttt|ifiI^lt.v
Nt llf W5.^tf ItltXMUS LmBXMXiV»cclUU>
M55XXUlxiNt^|^C>l|^€tptf?;.e^K1Nif
Cr^'f>BlU5BUt^oH»5rNNIXO^CII<5Rfo

R^mv»^i^^xt>^fMU5 u Ittf »;.»OK4f cno^.

ttl55X^6lNlX<V»Pf\)tl5qt4x<T>»H<v>X<;K
tt«»XTVI5 PRO nct?C^ K€Mt II p,.*^ HXtU »

Hvc--iitfM''?5tMcniumcoH5 x^>u;n.u

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

prince ht CaUcpranti

CHARLES MAURICE DE TALLEYRAND-PfiRIGORD

1754— 1838

Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Perigord, Prince of Benevento, the most
subtle, shrewd, and unprincipled of all modern diplomatists, was born
at Paris, February 13, 1754, of an ancient and distinguished family, and
died at Paris, 1838. He was trained for the Church, and studied at St.
Sulpice, the Sorbonne, and Rheims, but at no period did he betray the least
inclination toward a Christian or even a moral life. At the age of twenty
he came to Paris, and rapidly acquired a reputation for licentiousness.
This, however, did not prevent him from obtaining several ecclesiastical
benefices, among others the abbacy of St. Denis, in the diocese of Rheims.
So notorious was his infajiie conduite (as Mirabeau calls it) that for some
years Louis XVI shrank from conferring on him further ecclesiastical
preferment, and it was only on account of his administrative abilities that
in 1788 he obtained the bishopric of Autun. In 1792, when the old Euro-
pean despotisms were obviously preparing to coerce the young republic,
Talleyrand was sent to London — but not in an official character — to
negotiate with the English Government. He did not make a favorable
impression on George III or on Pitt. Talleyrand would, doubtless, have
returned to France, had not a letter of M. de Laporte, intendant of the
civil list of Louis XVI, been discovered, in which he was noted as a man
" disposed to serve " the King. He was proscribed by the Convention in
December, 1792; and thus his connection with the Revolution was sud-
denly brought to a close. He remained in England till forced to leave
by the "alien bill," and sailed for the United States in February, 1794,
where he lived for more than a year.

After the fall of the Terrorists he procured the revocation of his banish-
ishment. and in March, 1796, re-entered Paris. The rise of Bonaparte
was a phenomenon which so penetrating a politician as Talleyrand could
not overlook. He cultivated the friendship of the young general with a
sagacious assiduity, keeping him constantly ate couraiit, when away from
Paris, of the situation of parties, and became his confidant in those
designs, the execution of which resulted in the overthrow^ of the Direc-
tory, Brumaire 18, 1799. After this coup d'etat, the subtle finesse of
Talleyrand was constantly in requisition. He divined, with a sort of
miraculous cleverness, the ideas of Bonaparte, and his whole policy was
directed to consolidate the power and authority of his master. But when
the views of the Emperor in regard to Spain became apparent, Talleyrand
came forward with a plan of his own, which was not adopted. The ill-
success of the Spanish war (at first) induced Talleyrand to pronounce
against it, and occasioned violent invectives on the side of his sovereign.
The victories of Wellington in Spain, and the reverses of Napoleon in
Russia and Germany, widened the breach between them, and Talleyrand
now only waited the decisive moment in which to ruin the cause of his
master. It was Talleyrand who dictated to the Senate the terms of the
deposition of Napoleon ; and on the restoration of the Bourbons he be-
came minister of foreign affairs in the first government of Louis XVIII.
After the July Revolution, Louis Philippe employed him as ambassador
at the English court, where he contrived to bring about a friendly feeling
between the new monarchy and the English Government. During the
brief remainder of his life nothing externally notable occurred, and it was
characteristic of his nature that his now celebrated " Memoires " were
barred by his will from publication until thirty years after his death. At
the request of Napoleon III the publication was again delayed till 1890.

302

FROM CONSUL TO EMPERORS

I BECAME minister of foreign afifairs - during the time that
elapsed between the signing of the preliminaries of peace
and the conclusion of the definitive treaty [of Campo-
Formio]. On learning my appointment, General Bonaparte
wrote to the members of the Directory to congratulate them
on their choice, and also sent me a very nice letter. From that
day, we kept up a close correspondence.^ All the young vic-
torious general did, said, or wrote was so full of originality,
so striking, skilful and daring as to justify building great hopes
on his genius. A few weeks after writing his first letter to me,
he signed the treaty of Campo-Formio (October 17, 1797).

On the other hand, England had sent Lord Malmesbury * to
France with proposals of peace ; but in this, she was not sin-
cere. The English Cabinet was then forced to feign entering
on negotiations with us, in order to overcome its difficulties
at home.^

Such were the relations of France with foreign countries
when I joined the Ministry.

1 From the " Memoirs of the Prince
de Talleyrand." By permission of the
publishers, G. P. Putnam's Sons, New
York and London.

2 July 18, 1797.

3 The following is the first letter writ-
ten to Bonaparte by Talleyrand:

" Paris, July 24, 1797.

" I have the honor to inform you,
general, that the Executive Directory
has appointed me minister of foreign
affairs. Fully alive to the fearful re-
sponsibility my duties lay on me, it is
necessary that I should seek confidence
in the fact that your glory cannot fail to
facilitate the negotiations I may have to
carry out. The mere name of Bona-
parte will remove all obstacles.

" I shall diligently acquaint you with
all the views the Directory may instruct
me to bring to your knowledge, and
fame, which quickly spreads all your
achievements, will often deprive me of

the pleasure of informing the directors
of the manner in which you have car-
ried out their views." (" Unpublished
official correspondence of Napoleon
Bonaparte with the Directory, the Min-
istry, ' etc. Paris, 1819, seven vols,
8vo.)

* James Harris, Earl of Malmesbury,
was born in 1746. In 1768, he was sec-
retary of embassy; in 1771, he was ap-
pointed minister at Berlin; in 1777, he
went to St. Petersburg in the same ca-
pacity; in 1783, he was sent to The
Hague; in 1788, he entered the House
of Lords. After his missions to
France, he retired to private life. He
died in 1820.

^ As early as 1796, Pitt had made over-
tures of peace, and sent Malmesbury
to Paris. The negotiations were broken
oflf on December 19, 1796. In the fol-
lowing year, Malmesbury returned to
Lille (July 4th), and began fresh nego-
tiations, which, however, also failed.

303

304

TALLEYRAND

At home a faction was plotting the overthrow of the existing
order of things, to replace it by what ? Nobody ever knew or
ever will know ; for this faction was not numerous, and was
composed of Republicans and of former member^ of the Con-
stituent Assembly and of the National Convention, who may
have been united by common hatred, but who could certainly
not work any plan together.

At any rate, what soon became evident was the weakness
of this faction, easily overcome, and whose real or pretended
leaders were, in the course of a few hours, arrested for the most
part, charged with plotting against the established government,
convicted without being heard, and transported to Cayenne,®
by virtue of what was then termed a law.

Civil war continued to desolate the western provinces, where
the Republicans were masters of nearly all the towns. This
war — the organizers of which handed to their families the
proud title of Vcndccn, afterward replaced and spoiled by that
of CJiouan — was then confined within limits beyond which some
vainly endeavored to extend it. It had become more irksome
than dangerous for the government.

The words of republic, liberty, equality, fraternity, were
everywhere inscribed on all the walls, but the ideas and feel-
ings they expressed were nowhere to be met with. From
the highest authorities to those of the lovv-est rank, there
was scarcely one that was not most arbitrary in its forma-
tion, its composition and mode of action. All was done
with violence, and, as a natural consequence, nothing could
last.

The young general Bonaparte, who, for the last two years,
shone so brilliantly on the stage of the world, refused to be
swamped among the crowd of single generals ; he Avanted to
hear his name bruited abroad more yet, and to continue to
attract all looks upon himself. Besides, he feared a situation in
which he would be defenceless against the verv dangers to
which his fame might give birth. Ambitious enough to wish
to be head of all, he was yet not so blind as to think this possi-
ble for him in France, at least not without a concurrence of

• This was the coup d'etat of Fructi- Ma^ had sent an anti-revolutionist

dor i8th, year V (September 4, 1797), majority. The greater portion of these

made by the Directory with the as- elections were quashed, and sixty-five

sistance of the army against the coun- deputies transported to Cayenne.
cils, where the elections of the previous

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

305

events which, at that time, could not be regarded as close at
hand, or even as probable.

England in the time of Cromwell had but one army. Crom-
well, who had selected all its officers, had only his own creatures
among them. Outside the army he had no rival in fame. Two
hours' fanaticism, skilfully employed, sufficed to put the troops
into the state of mind he wished. Finally, the Long Parliament,
which had concentrated all power within itself, had played its
part ; '^ all parties had grown tired of its tyranny ; they all de-
sired its overthrow.

These circumstances were all lacking in Bonaparte's case.
But if he had not yet the chance of ruling, as Cromwell, in his
own cotmtry, it was, on the other hand, not impossible that he
might cut out for himself a sovereignty elsewhere, provided
France first furnished him with the means.

After having signed the peace with Austria at Campo-
Formio, and paid a short visit to Rastadt, the place agreed
upon with the empire ^ for treating of the peace (for, after the
example of the old Romans, the French Republic had adopted
the principle of never comprising two of its enemies into the
same peace), he went to Paris to propose the conquest of
Egypt to the Directory.

I had never seen him. At the time of my nomination to
the ministry of foreign affairs he had written to me, as I have
already mentioned, a long letter, carefully compiled, in which
he wished to appear under a different character from that which
he had hitherto played on the stage of public life. This letter
is sufficiently interesting to make one wish it to be inserted
at the end of these " Memoirs." ® The evening of the day on
which he arrived in Paris, he sent me an aide-de-camp to ask
at what hour he could see me. I replied that I awaited his
leisure; he fixed the next day at 11 a.m. I informed Madame
de Stael of this ; she was in my drawing-room at ten o'clock.
There were also some other persons whom curiosity had at-

'' The Long Parliament is the name a congress had met at Rastadt (Grand

given in England to the last Parliament Duchy of Baden) to regulate the ques-

convened by Charles I. Having as- tion still under discussion (navigation

sembled in 1640, it lasted more than of the Rhine, indemnities to dispos-

twenty years. In 1648, Cromwell dis- sessed princes, etc.). Reassembled at

missed all members who were hostile the beginning of 1798, it was suddenly

to his own policy, and in 1653, he dis- interrupted by war at the beginning of

solved it. Recalled in 1659, and nick- the following year.

named The Rump. This Parliament "This letter has not been found

broke up in 1660. among the papers of the Prince de Tal-

* Since the treaty of Campo-Formio, Icyrand.

:o6

TALLEYRAND

tracted thither. I renicnibor that Bougainville ^^ was there.
The general \vas announced, and I went to meet him. \\ hile
crossing the room, 1 introduced Madame de Stael to him, but
he bestowed very little attention upon her. l>ougainville was
the only one whom he condescended to notice, and to whom
he paid a few^ compliments.

At first sight, he seemed to me to have a chartning face ; so
much do the halo of victory, fine eyes, a pale and almost con-
simiptive look, become a young hero. We entered my study.
Our first conversation was full of confidence on liis part. He
dwelt in kind terms on my appointment as foreign secretary,
and insisted on the pleasure it afforded him to correspond with
a person of a different stamp from that of the directors. Al-
most abruptly he said to me : " You are the nephew of the
Archbishop of Rheims, who is with Louis X\'III " (I noticed
that he did not then say with the Comte de Lille ' ) ; and he
added, " I also have an uncle who is an archdeacon in Corsica,-
it was he who brought me up. In Corsica, you know, an arch-
deacon is like a bishop in France." We soon returned to the
drawing-room which had become filled with visitors, and he
said in a loud voice : " Citizens, I appreciate the attentions
paid to me ; I waged war as well as I could, and as well as 1
could, made peace. It now^ rests with the Directory to turn
the latter to the happiness and prosperity of the republic."
We then went together to the Directory.

The hesitation and jealousy of the Directory caused a cer-
tain annoyance to Bonaparte during the first weeks of his stay
in Paris. I gave a fete to celebrate his victories in Italy
and the glorious peace he had signed. I spared no trouble to
make it brilliant and attractive ; although in this, I experienced
some difficulty on account of the vulgarity of the directors'
wives, who of course enjoyed precedence over all other ladies.

>* Louis Antoine de Bougainville,
born in i7.!9, was at first secretary of
embassy, and afterward an officer of
dragoons. He was thirty-four years old
when he entered the navy. In 1766, he
undertook round the world a voyage
which lasted three years. He left the
navy in 1790, entered the Institute
(1796), was made a senator under the
empire, and died in 1814.

^ That was the name adopted by
Louis X\'III during the emigration.

"Joseph Fesch, born in 1763, at Ajac-
cio. He was, in 1789, archdeacon of

the chapter of that town. Having pro-
tested against the civil constitution of
the clergy, he retired from the chapter,
put aside his ecclesiastical functions,
and became commissaire dcs guerrcs to
the Army of Italy (179';'). After the
eigliteenth of Brumaire. l^esch resumed
his ecclesiastical duties, became .Arch-
bishop of Lyons (1802); cardinal, and
was sent as envoy extraordinary to
Rome (1S04). He was recalled in 180S.
Peer of France during the Hundred
Days, he retired to Rome at the restora-
tion and died in 1809.

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

307

My apartments had been decorated as tastefully as possible,
and everybody congratulated me.

"All this must have cost you a lot, Citizen Minister?"
Madame Merlin,^ the wife of the director, said to me.

" Not a fortune, madame," I replied, in the same tone.

The next day numerous other jokes, most of which were
quite authentic, were going their round in Paris.

The Directory was then contemplating an expedition to
Ireland ; * its command, at first intended for Hoche,*^ who died
in the meantime, was afterward offered to General Bonaparte,
but it did not suit his views. This expedition, whether a
success or a failure, could evidently not last long, so that the
young general would, on his return, have found himself exactly
in the same situation as he actually was. The army he would
have led to Ireland he could not have used as a tool to further
his own projects; and, beside, he could have had no hope
of establishing himself firmly in that country.

Nor did he think of obtaining supreme power in Egypt, nor
indeed in any country he might have conquered with a French
army. He did not yet anticipate that his army would be
satisfied with achieving victories that would only benefit him,
and consent to letting him take a crown, and still less placing
it on his head. The more so, that the troops over which he
possessed most command, and which, for this very reason,
he most wished to take with him, were composed of the very
men with whom he had just been campaigning in Italy, and
Avhose republican fanaticism he had himself aroused and care-
fully kept up. All he expected from them was that they should
enable him to appear in the eyes of the Christians of the East
and of all Greeks, as a liberator ready to break their fetters ;
as for the ultimate realization of his ambitious dreams, he
trusted to the number, the energy and gratitude of these same
Greeks, but above all to some unforeseen chance. Such hopes.

2 Merlin de Douay (1754-1838), former
member of the Constituent Assembly
and of the Convention. In 1795, he be-
came minister of justice, then minis-
ter of general police, and finally a
director after the eighteenth of Fructi-
dor; he was chief president of the Court
of Cassation, under the empire.

* The Directory intending to attack
England at home, Ireland seemed to
offer a propitious field of operations;
a rising of her inhabitants might be ex-

pected. A first attempt to land troops
on that island had failed in January,
1797. A second expedition started m
August. General Humbert landed with
1,100 men in the Bay of Sligo, was vic-
torious at Killala and at Castlebar, but
was defeated at Ballinamuck and
obliged to surrender.

' Hoche died suddenly, September 18,
1797. He was then commander-in-chief
of the armies of " Sambre-et-Meuse "
and of " Rhin-et-Moselle."

3o8 TALLEYRAND

if they could have been suspected, would not have been likely
to promote the success of his negotiation with the Directory.
He therefore affected to have but one aim in view — to further
the interests of France. He spoke of Egypt as of a colony
alone worth all the colonies France had lost, and whence deadly
blows could be struck at the English power in India. He
sometimes, however, allowed his impetuous imagination and
natural loquacity to carry him beyond the limits of prudence,
and talked of returning to Europe by way of Constantinople,
which was not exactly the road to India; so that it did not
require much penetration to guess that if ever he took Con-
stantinople, the result of his victory would not be to consolidate
the throne of the successor of the Kalifs or to substitute a
republic one and indivisible to the Ottoman Empire.

Yet the Directory were so struck with the importance of
getting rid of a man who caused them such umbrage and
whom they felt powerless to keep in check, that they eventually
yielded to Bonaparte, agreed that an expedition should be
sent to Egypt, appointed him to the command of the troops
composing the expedition, and thus paved the way for events
they were most anxious to prevent.

I must state here succinctly what was the situation of
Europe toward France at the time of Bonaparte's departure.

The Empress Catherine of Russia had been the first to
declare against the French Revolution, but all her policy had
been limited to making her opinions publicly known by means
of despatches which her ministers were instructed to show in
the different courts to which they were accredited. I saw a
great number of these letters in the hands of the Prince of
Nassau.** She had carefully abstained from joining in a war,
the result of which was necessarily to weaken her neighbors
and, as a matter of course, to increase her relative power. Hav-
ing no fear that French principles should contaminate her sub-
jects, but justly afraid of the efforts made by Poland to shake
off her anarchy, she had taken advantage of the moment when

* The Prince Otto von Nassau-Sie- appointed head of a naval squadron,

gen, born in 1745, accompanied Bou- and intrusted with sundry diplomatic

gainville on his voyage round the world missions to Vienna, Versailles, and

(1766-1769). On his return, he took Madrid. Vice-admiral in 1790, he was

service in France, went afterward to defeated by King Gustavus III. He

Spain, where the title of grandee and then retired to private life, came to

the rank of general were conferred on Paris in 1802, and died in 1809.
him. In 1787, he went to Russia, was

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

309

France, Prussia, and Austria were fighting together to plot the
' dismemberment of that kingdom, a portion of which she had
already added to her dominions, leaving the rest to Austria
and Prussia.'' She died soon after (November 17, 1796).

It is impossible to tell what her successor, Paul I, who had
inherited the disease of his father, Peter III,® would have done,
but for the invasion of Egypt by France. At any rate, this
invasion became for him a decisive and peremptory pretext.

Since the time of Peter I, Russia had never ceased to con-
sider European Turkey as a prey which was eventually to fall
to her, which she was to absorb gradually, being unable to do
so all at once. This prey would have slipped from her for-
ever if, through a revolution, Greece had recovered her inde-
pendence ; and the invasion of Egypt not only caused Russia
to fear this revolution, but pointed out to it as being inevitable.

Paul I, instead of the natural enemy of the Turks, at once
became their ally; he entered into a league with England.
Austria joined them all the more readily that she had laid
down her arms against her will, and that, since the peace of
Campo-Formio, France had caused her much justifiable
alarm.

Some dispute which had arisen between the Vaudois and
the Senate of Bern, their sovereign, afforded a pretext to the
Directory for sending troops to Switzerland, to both places at
once, and change the confederation into a republic one and
indivisible."

Under some other pretexts the Papal States had been in-
vaded by French troops, the Pope Pius VI taken as a prisoner
to the Chartreux convent of Florence, and thence to Valence,
in Dauphiny, where he died; his government replaced by
what was then called a republican administration.^"

The King of Naples, justly afraid, but whom prudence

' This was the third and final dis-
memberment of Poland (February ii,
1795).

* Through debauchery and excesses
of all kinds, Peter III had brought on
himself epileptic fits.— Translator.

* The Swiss cantons were not all
then independent as to-day. The can-
ton of Vaud, for instance, was subject
to the authority of Bern. It rose in
insurrection against the latter and was
crushed. Many Vaudois then took ref-
uge in France. They all pretended
that Switzerland was in the hands of
the Federalist party, which was itself

serving the ends of Austria, and so-
licited the intervention of the Direc-
tory. Switzerland was invaded (Feb-
ruary, 1798), and the republic of Leman
proclaimed with a Constitution similar
to that of France.

'<• On December 27, 1^97, a riot had
broken out in Rome, (jeneral Duphot
had been killed in the course of it. On
February loth following. General Ber-
thier became master of the town. Five
days later, the Roman republic was
proclairned by a popular vote, at the
instigation of the Directory.

3IO

TALLEYRAND

should have advised to keep quiet and bide his time, having
rashly and against the advice of the Court of Vienna, begun
hostilities with inexperienced and undisciplined troops, had to
take refuge in Sicily, abandoning his kingdom of Naples,
which the French Directory soon transformed into a Parthe-
nopean republic.^

The Directory could then, if they had wished it, have made of
Italy a bulwark for France by forming but one single state with
the former fine country. But, far from doing so, they felt
much provoked on learning that the fusion of the new republics
into one was secretly prepared in Italy, and they opposed this
fusion with all their might. They wanted republics which
made them odious to monarchies, but they wanted only small
and weak republics, in order to occupy militarily their territo-
ries under the guise of protecting them, but in reality to rule
them and feed their troops at their expense, which made them
odious to these very republics.

All these upheavals taking place in the immediate neigh-
borhood of Austria, modified too much her relative situation
for her to witness them peaceably.

Her first object in taking up arms again was to break off
the negotiations of Rastadt : in this she succeeded ; but it is un-
fortunate for her that to this rupture of negotiations should
have been added the assassination of the French plenipoten-
tiaries.- After this event it was but natural to expect a furious
renewal of hostilities.

The Directory were not wanting in soldiers to wage the
war; but since the proscription of Carnot (Fructidor i8), they
had no one capable of directing the military operations ; and of
all their renowned generals, Moreau ^ alone was in France.
But he was accused, if not of having been implicated in the
anti-revolutionary plans of his friend Pichegru,* at least of

1 January, 1799. Ferdinand IV, son of
Charles III, King of Spain, was then
reigning at Naples. He had married
Marie-Caroline, daughter of the Em-
press Maria-Theresa.

- Roberjot, Bonnier, and Derbry: the
latter was the only one to surviva his
wounds.

* Victor Moreau, born at Morlaix in
1763, was in 1787, prevost of the school
of law. He took service as a volun-
teer in 1792, became general in the fol-
lowing year and commanded succes-
sively the Army of the Rhine (1796), the

Army of Italy (1799), and again the
Army of the Rhine (1800). He was very
hostile to the First Consul; he was im-
plicated in the conspiracy of Georges
Cadoudal, arrested, tried, and sen-
tenced to two years' imprisonment.
Bonaparte commuted this sentence into
banishment. In 1813, Moreau returned
from America, where he had been re-
siding, served in the Russian army as
field-marshal, and was mortally
wounded at Dresden Augu.st 2sth.

* Charles Pichegru (i76r-i8o4') w;is a
non-commissioned officer of artillery in

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

311

having known them, and of having only disclosed them when
too late. For this reason, he was so much in disfavor with
the republicans, that the Directory would not have dared to
intrust him wath a command however much inclined they
might have felt to do so. By authorizing Moreau to enlist as
a simple volunteer in the army of Italy, they considered they
had done much.

The presence of Moreau at the army of Italy did not prevent
it being thoroughly beaten and routed at the very beginning
of the action. Macdonald,^ who was coming up from the heart
of Italy with thirty-five thousand men, in order to re-enforce it,
was crushed at Trebia.**

All these sham republics raised by the Directory, vanished
as soon as reverse befel French arms, and, but for the precau-
tion previously taken by the Directory to retain in trust all
the fortresses in Piedmont, all the French troops would have
had to evacuate Italy. By rallying in and around these places
the scattered remnants of the armies of the republic, Moreau
succeeded in stopping the progress of the enemy.

When the Directory revolutionized Switzerland, they did not
suspect that they were reopening an inlet, closed for centuries,
by which foreigners were one day to enter France, and bring
about thither the great change so much dreaded by the revolu-
tionists. The Directory must even have experienced it them-
selves, but for the blunder of the Archduke Charles,'^ who
evacuated Switzerland in order to besiege Philipsburg in vain,
and only left behind him a body of Russian troops, thus ena-
bling Massena to win the victory of Zurich,® which was all the

1789. In 1793, he was appointed gen-
eral commander-in-chief of the Army of
the Rhine, took the command of the
Army of the North in 1794, and con-
quered Holland. He allowed himself to
give way to the solicitations of the roy-
alist party, and plotted with the chiefs
of Conde's army. Having aroused the
suspicions of the Directory, he lost his
command in 1796. Having been elect-
ed, in 1797, a member of the Conseil
des Cinq-Cents, he became the leader
of the anti-revolutionary party, which,
on Fructidor i8th, led to his arrest and
transportation to Guiana. He rnan-
aged to escape, however, a short time
after, reached England, joined in Ca-
doudal's conspiracy in 1803, was arrest-
ed in Paris and strangled himself in
his prison.

^ .^li^xandre Macdonald ('t765;-i8.-|o),
was born of Irish parents, took service

in Dillon's Irish troops, became gen-
eral of division in 1795, governor of the
Papal States in 1798. He fell out of
favor in 1804, again took service in
1809, became marshal of France and
Due de Tarente after the victory of
Wagram. In 1814, he became a mem-
ber of the House of Peers, and high-
chancellor of the Legion of Honor in
i8i6.

" June 17, 18, and 19, 1799.

^ The Archduke Charles was born in
1771; he was the son of the Emperor
Leopold. He became field-marshal of
the German Empire in 1795, and min-
ister of war in 1802. Generalissimo of
the Austrian armies in 1805 and i8og,
the Archduke Charles was one of the
first captains of his time, and the most
formidable of Napoleon's adversaries.
He died in 1847.

* Massena was then commander-in-

312

TALLEYRAND

more extolled in Paris, that it was indispensable to the safety
of France.

The Directory shared the fate of all despots. So long as
their armies were victorious, people hated their rule but feared
their power. But as soon as the hour of defeat came, that
Government met with universal contempt. The press attacked
it, lampoon writers held it up to ridicule, everybody denounced
it. Naturally, the members of the ministry were not spared ;
this offered the opportunity I was looking for of resigning my
post. I had then ascertained that what little evil I could pre-
vent was but insignificant, and that, only later, could any real
good be worked.

The intention I had had for a long time of resigning had
induced me to take certain precautions. I had acquainted
General Bonaparte with my resolution before his departure
for Egypt ; he fully approved the reasons which had led me
to take it, and kindly used his influence with the directors to
solicit for me the appointment of ambassador to Constantino-
ple, in the event of it being possible to come to some under-
standing with the Porte, or else the authorization of joining
him at Cairo, where, there was reason to believe, negotiations
might have to be opened with the agents of the Sultan.^ Hav-
ing obtained that authorization, I sent in my resignation, and
retired to the country, near Paris, whence I watched the
Gourse of events.^"

The stanch demagogues, who had, for some time past, re-
sumed an alarming attitude, agitated, and threatened to bring
about a new Reign of Terror. But their clubs, which they had
reopened, and which Fouche ^ closed as soon as he deemed
it advisable, were not to cause the overthrow of the Directory :
the Directory fell by the fault of its own members.

Sieyes was envoy extraordinary and plenipotentiary minis-

chief of the army of Helvetia. The bat-
tle of Zurich, where the Russian army
was destroyed, was fought on August
26, T799.

* This is what Napoleon said subse-
quently, concerning his relations with
Talleyrand, before his departure for
Egypt: " It had been agreed with the
Directory and Talleyrand, that imme-
diately after the departure of the ex-
pedition sent to Egypt, negotiations
should be opened with the Porte con-
cerning the object of this expedition.
Talleyrand was even to be the negotia-

tor and to start for Constantinople
twenty-four hours after the expedition-
ary corps to Egypt had left the port of
Toulon. This promise, expressly
claimed and positively given, had been
forgotten, not only did Talleyrand re-
main in Paris, but no negotiation took
place. "^ {" Memoires de Napoleon
dictes a Saint-Helene au general Gour-
gaud." vol. i. p. 62.)

'" July 20, 1799.

' Fouche had been appointed minis-
ter of police, on Barras's motion.

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

3^3

ter of the republic in Berlin, when he was elected a member
of the Directory. His return to Paris was awaited with such
impatience that the time he required to take leave of the Prus-
sian court, start on the journey and reach the capital seemed
intolerably long to his colleagues of the Government. They
credited him with possessing infallible means to remedy the
critical situation of France at home and abroad. He had
scarcely alighted than everybody begged of him to divulge
those means. The most influential among the members of
both assemblies ^ assured him that he had but to speak, and
that, in all in which they can help him, they will strongly
assist him. Before proposing anything, Sieyes desired to see
everything with his own eyes, to examine and to ponder. The
result of his investigations was that nothing useful could be
accomplished with the colleagues he had. There and then
three of them were removed. Among their successors, two
were but regular ciphers, the third was devoted to him.^
Sieyes then no longer complained of the men, it was, he urged,
absolutely necessary to modify the institutions. Five rulers
were too many ; three would be sufficient. The name of Direc-
tory had become hateful ; it must be replaced by some other
appellation. It was, above all things, indispensable that the
government should comprise among its members a military man
possessing the confidence of the army, as unless a government
be supported by the army, it is powerless to do any good.

Moreau, having been sounded as to whether he would accept
the post of member of the government, declined all but mili-
tary functions. General Joubert was then thought of, and, in
order to enable him to win the desirable fame he did not yet
possess, he was sent to Italy with a command. On arriving,
he fought imprudently the battle of Novi,* and was killed at
the beginning of the action, thus causing all the hopes built on
him to vanish. The situation remained as intricate as ever,
and goodness knows how matters would have ended, but for
an event which the Directory least expected.

- The Conseils des Anciens (Covincil tory. Director Treilhard was removed,

of the Elders) and the Conseil des Cinq- and Gohier appointed in his stead.

Cents (Council of the Five Hundred). Lareveillere-Lepeaux and Merlin were

— Translator. called upon to resign, being replaced

^ This change of directors constituted by Moulins and Roger Ducos. The lat-

what is known in history as the coup ter was entirely devoted to Sieyes.

d'etat of Prairial 30 (May, 1799), aimed * August 15, 1799.
by the assemblies against the Direc-

314 TALLEYRAND

After the conquest of Egypt, Bonaparte had followed up the
execution of his plans by attempting that of Syria. But Acre
stopped his progress. Although he had lost all his siege guns,
captured by English cruisers, on the way from Egypt to Syria,
he insisted on attacking the Turkish stronghold. After furi-
ously storming the place three times, he was, however, com-
pelled to withdraw and bring his troops back to Egypt, where
the English threatened to land. His magnificent hopes were
thus vanishing ; that even of holding his own in Egypt was
becoming anything but certain. He was haunted by the fearful
apprehension of being reduced to leave the country only
through a capitulation, which would have left him the reputa-
tion of being but an adventurer. Fortunately, the vicissitudes
of the French arms in Italy relieved him from his perplexity,
by giving him the rashness of doing what otherwise he never
would have dared to attempt. Without any authority to do
so, he handed his command to Kleber, left Egypt, escaped
from English cruisers, and landed at Frejus.^

As anticipated by him, the political parties of France saw in
him not a man who was to account for his conduct, but one
whom circumstances rendered indispensable, and whose favor
it was necessary to win.

At first, some people thought that Barras, the author of
Bonaparte's fortune, who of all former directors was the only
one still in office, was so far mistaken in his judgment of the
young general and had so much overrated his own influence
over him, as to flatter himself that he could induce him to
play the part of a monk ; but Bonaparte who, even if he had
been able to do so, would have declined it, was really not at
that time in a position to play such a part.

He could not, therefore, hesitate long, between such a pro-
posal, supposing it was made to him, and the ofifer not exactly
of supreme power, but of a position that enabled him to aspire
to it.

A great number of his supporters would doubtless have
preferred to see him appointed simply a member of the Direc-
tory, but matters had reached such a point, that everybody
was obliged to be satisfied with whatever Bonaparte might
wish, and the very nature of things made him master of the

" October 9, 1799.

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

315

situation. As a director, he could not have carried out his
ambitious designs.

It was therefore agreed that the Directory should be re-
placed by three provisory consuls who, with the assistance
of two committees from the conscils, would have to draft a
new Constitution to be submitted to the approval of the pri-
mary assemblies, for the sovereignty of the people was a
dogma which nobody was, then, dreaming of putting into
question.^

This plan having been arranged, the Council of Elders, ac-
cording to the rights conferred on them by the Constitution,
and under the pretext of the excitement existing in Paris,
transferred the seat of the legislature to St. Cloud. By so
doing, it was hoped to check all obstacles to the measures that
had been concerted. The two most influential members of the
Directory (Sieyes and Barras), the majority of the Council of
the Elders and a portion of the Council of the Five Hundred,
were in favor of this step. On Brumaire 18 (November 9,
1799), the Directorial Guards under the command of Auge-
reau, who had been appointed to it since Fructidor 18, a host
of general officers and other military men of all ranks, as also a
few sightseers, among whom I was, repaired to St. Cloud,
in order to attend the sitting.

Notwithstanding this display of force, the Council of the
Five Hundred offered such opposition to the proposed modi-

* A few days before Brumaire i8th,
my house was the scene of an incident,
the whole interest of which lies in the
circumstances that attended it. Gen-
eral Bonaparte, who was then residing
in the Rue Chantereine, called on me,
one evening, to talk about the prelim-
inaries of his intended coup d'etat. I
was then living in a house in the Rue
Taitbout, which, I believe, has since
been known as Number 24. It was sit-
uated at the back of a yard, and, the
first floor of it communicated with
rooms overlooking the street. We
were engrossed in conversation in the
drawing-room which was lighted by a
few candles; when, at about one
o'clock in the morning, we heard a
great noise in the street; it sounded
like the riding of carriages and the
stamping of horses, such as might be
produced by an escort of cavalry. Sud-
denly the carriages stopped in front of
my house. General Bonaparte turned
pale, and I quite believe I did the
same. We at once thought that people
had come to arrest us by order of the
Directory. I blew out the candles, and

went on tiptoe, to one of the front
rooms whence I could see what was
going on in the street. Some time
elapsed before I could ascertain the
real cause of all this uproar, which,
however, turned out to be simply gro-
tesque. As in those days, the streets of
Paris were hardly safe at night, all the
money of gambling-houses was col-
lected, at closing time, and removed in
cabs, for which, in this case the pro-
prietor had obtained from the police
that an escort of gendarmes, which he
himself paid, should, every night, ac-
company the cabs as far as his resi-
dence which was in the Rue de Clichy,
or thereabout. On the night in ques-
tion, one of these cabs had met with
an accident exactly in front of my
door, thus causing the whole party to
stop on their way for about a quarter
of an hour. We laughed a good deal,
the general and I, at our panic, which
however was but natural on the part
of people acquainted as we were with
the disposition of the Directory, and
the violent measures they were capable
of resorting to. — Prince Talleyrand.

3i6 TALLEYRAND

fication of the Constitution, as to jeopardize the execution of
the plan in view, although its object was merely to substitute
one form of polygarchy for another (I am always obliged to
make use of this barbaric expression, for want of any equiva-
lent). Thus it is easy to imagine what would have happened
to him who had manifested any desire to play the part of monk ;
he would have had against him nearly all the men to whom
the success of the coup d'etat of Brumaire i8 was, more or
less, due.

At last, both persuasion and threats having been brought to
bear, the motion was carried. The Directory was dissolved,
Sieyes, Roger Ducos,'^ and Bonaparte were appointed consuls,
and the committees who were to draft the project of constitu-
tion were all that remained of the councils. Ten or twelve
days later, I again became foreign secretary

The overthrow of the Directory could not fail to please, or at
least, be indififerent to all the foreign powers friendly with
France. There being no reason to fear any modification in
their disposition, no special steps were needed to inform them
of the change of Government. As for hostile powers, the only
hope of altering their attitude toward France lay in fresh vic-
tories. Though no negotiations had to be carried on abroad,
yet at home a most important and delicate negotiation was
being proceeded with, and although I had nothing to do with
it in an ofificial capacity, it could not be either foreign or
indififerent to me.

It became necessary either to re-establish monarchy or else
to have made the i8 Brumaire in vain, thus postponing to an
uncertain and perhaps indefinite date the hope of a restoration
of monarchical institutions. Re-establishing monarchy did not
mean raising the throne again. Monarchy has three degrees
or forms : it is elective for a time, elective for life, or hereditary.
What is called the throne cannot belong to the first of these
three forms, and does not necessarily belong to the second.
Now, to reach the third, without passing successively by the

'' The Comte Roger Ducos, born in maire i8th, he gave active support to

1754, had been a member of the Na- Bonaparte, became a consul pro tem-

tional Convention, where he voted for pore, and was appointed a senator un-

the death of the King. He was elected der the empire, in 1814; he was ap-

a member of the Council of the Elders, pointed a peer of France, during the

of which he became the president in Hundred Days, was exiled in 1815, and

1796. On Prairial 30, he was appoint- died at Ulm in 1816.
ed one of the directors. On Bru-

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

317

two others, unless France were in the power of foreign forces,
was a thing absolutely impossible. It might, it is true, not
have been so, if Louis XVI had Hved, but the murder of that
prince had put an insurmountable obstacle in the way.

The passing from polygarchy to hereditary monarchy could
not be immediate, the result being, as a necessary consequence,
that the re-establishment of the latter and the re-establishment
of the house of Bourbon could not be simultaneous. Thus it
was indispensable to pave the way for the restoration of mo-
narchical institutions without having regard for the special in-
terests of the house of Bourbon, which time might bring back,
if it so happened that he who Was to occupy the throne proved
himself unworthy and deserved to lose it. It was necessary to
make a temporary sovereign who might become sovereign
for life, and eventually hereditary monarch. The question was
not whether Bonaparte had the qualities most desirable in a
monarch ; he had unquestionably those which were indispensa-
ble to again accustom France to monarchical discipline, as
she was still infatuated with every revolutionary doctrine ; and
no one possessed those qualities in the same degree as he did.

The real point was how could Bonaparte be made a tem-
porary sovereign ? If one proposed to appoint him sole consul,
one betrayed views which could not be concealed with too
much care. If, on the other hand, one gave him colleagues
equal to him in rank and power, one remained in polygarchy.

They remained in polygarchy if they established a legislative
body, either permanent, or which was to sit at fixed dates
without previous summons, and to prorogue itself. If this
body, though divided into two distinct assemblies, could alone
make the laws, they remained in polygarchy. In short, they
remained in polygarchy if the high officials, and chiefly the
judges, were to continue to be named by the electoral as-
semblies. The problem to be solved was, as may be seen,
very intricate, and bristling with so many difficulties that it
was almost impossible to avoid arbitrary measures; and they
were not avoided.

Three consuls were created, a first, a second, and a third
consul, unequal in rank, and whose respective duties were such
that, with some interpretations (that Bonaparte knew better
than anyone how to give when his own power was at stake),

3i8

TALLEYRAND

tlie First Consul was almost alone invested, by that very fact,
with the share of authority which, in limited or constitutional
monarchies, is in the hands of the sovereign. The only essen-
tial difiference was, that, instead of limiting his power to the
sanction of the laws, he was also intrusted with proposing
them, a plurality of power which proved fatal to himself.

In order to render the power of the First Consul still more
effective, I made, on the very day of his installation, a proposi-
tion which he readily accepted. The three consuls were to meet
every day, and the ministers were to acquaint them with the
affairs of their respective departments. I pointed out to General
Bonaparte the fact that all matters connected with foreign
affairs, being essentially secret, should not be discussed in coun-
cil, and that it was necessary that he should himself alone
decide all questions of foreign policy, which the head of a gov-
ernment should have entirely in his hands and manage. He
fully grasped the utility of that advice ; and as, when organiz-
ing a new government, everything is easier to settle, it was
agreed, from the very first day, that I should work only with the
First Consul.

The first act of General Bonaparte, in quality of First Consul,
was to write to the King of England a letter in which he ex-
pressed the wish for a prompt reconciliation between the two
countries. He made a similar advance to the Emperor of Aus-
tria. These two attempts led to no reconcilation, and could not
lead to any, but they had a happy effect upon the internal peace
of the country, because they announced dispositions which
ought to be agreeable to the people, in revealing as a skilful
statesman the great general who had become the head of the
government. This done, the refusal of the two cabinets being
well proved by a failure to reply to those letters, which were
not even honored with an acknowledgment,^ Bonaparte no
longer thought of anything but taking measures to go to meet
the enemy on a field of battle, where he was to find none but
Austrians.

Paul I, discontented with Austria, by whom he believed him-
self to have been betrayed,® had recalled his troops from Ger-

* Lord Grenytlle and Herr von Thu- ' Soinvaroff had just conquered Pied-
gut both replied to M. de Talleyrand mont, and, by the orders of his master,
to reject the propositions of the First had written to the King of Sardinia to
Consul. invite him to return to his possessions.

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

319

many. The First Consul, availing himself of this circum-
stance, collected the few Russian prisoners who were in France,
had them newly clothed, and sent home without ransom. He
directed one of the officers who commanded them to oiTer to
the Emperor Paul the sword of La Valette found at Malta.
It is known that the Emperor of Russia had taken the Order
of Malta under his special protection.^" Touched by these
delicate proceedings, the Emperor Paul, who got easily preju-
diced, directed General von Sprengtporten,^ to make over-
tures of peace to France ; these overtures were followed up by
M. de Kalitchefif, and led to a definite treaty, which I negoti-
ated and signed with M. de MarkofT.^

M. de Markofif had made his first appearance in public life
under the reign of the Empress Catherine, and had been sent
later to Paris, as one of the most skilful business men of Rus-
sia. He appeared to me a bad-tempered man, without instruc-
tion, but witty. His temper bore then upon his own govern-

Austria, which coveted northern Italy,
was stirred by that measure, and the
Aulic Council, which had the direc-
tion of the military operations, rid
themselves of this troublesome ally by
sending him to Switzerland. The Rus-
sian army suffered cruelly in crossing
the Alps, and was destroyed at Zurich.
The Emperor Paul and Souwaroff were
much irritated against the Austrians,
whom they accused of being the cause
of this disaster, and the Russian troops
were recalled.

10 The intervention of the Czar Paul
in the affairs of the Order of Malta is
one of the singularities of the history
of that time. The relations between
the two powers date from 1795. The
order possessed great wealth in Po-
land. This wealth being included in
the territories fallen to Russia after the
division of 1795, the grand master.
Prince de Rohan, endeavored to nego-
tiate an arrangement with Catherine.
The Emperor Paul, having in the mean-
time ascended the throne, took the af-
fair to heart, entered into relations
with Malta, and was inflamed with a
lively admiration for the old and glori-
ous traditions of the Knights of St.
John. On January 4, 1797, there was
signed an instrument by the terms of
which the possessions of the order in
Poland were transferred to the grand
priory of Russia. Seventy-two com-
manderies were created in one year.
The Czar and his son became Knights
of Malta. After the taking of the island
by the French, the Czar, on the request
of the grand priory declared himself
protector of the order (September,
1798), and two months after, the place
of grand master having become vacant,

a fraction of the order had the idea of
offering it to the Czar. Paul solemnly
accepted this new dignity. Bonaparte
profited skilfully by these circumstances
to conciliate Russia, and to detach it
from Germany. It was then that he
sent to the Czar the sword of La Va-
lette, the grand master, found at Mal-
ta; or, according to another authority,
the sword of the Grand Master Villiers
de rile-Adam, that Leo X had given to
that illustrious warrior as a remem-
brance of his fine defence -of Rhodes.
When Malta was taken by the English,
Paul claimed it in quality of grand
master (September, 1800). But the
English refused formally to cede this
important post, and a rupture ensued.
The death of Paul (March, 1801) ter-
minated this curious episode. His suc-
cessor, Alexander, did not claim the
island, and the matter ended there.
(Consult the " Memoirs " of Abbe
Georgel.)

^ Baron Joram von Sprengtporten, a
Swedish general, and one of the authors
of the Revolution of 1772, passed after-
ward into the service of Russia. He
became Governor of Finland, after the
conquest of that country by Russia, and
died in oblivion.

^ October 8, 1801. Arcadi Ivanovitch,
Count Markoff, was, under the reign of
Catherine, first counsellor of foreign af-
fairs. Having fallen into disgrace un-
der Paul I, he was recalled by Alexan-
der, and appointed ambassador at Paris
in 1801. He incurred the enmity of
Bonaparte, who demanded and ob-
tained his removal. On his return to
Russia, Markoff was often intrusted
with important diplomatic missions.
He died at a very advanced age.

320

TALLEYRAND

ment, which is very convenient for the minister of foreign
affairs of another country. While the Emperor Paul lived,
business relations were easy and agreeable, but, at the accession
of the Emperor Alexander, M, de Markoff became arrogant
and insupportable. It was with him that I treated the impor-
tant matter of the secularizations in Germany.^

Carnot, member of the Directory, having escaped from
Cayenne, where he had been so cruelly exiled, with so many
others, on Fructidor i8, had for some time been holding the
post of minister of war. His first care, on taking office, was to
assemble two armies, one on the Rhine, the other at the foot
of the Alps. General Moreau had the command of the first;
Bonaparte with the second rushes upon Italy by a new route,
and, without losing a cannon, crosses Great St. Bernard, May
20, 1800. He falls, without w^arning, upon the Austrians, and,
after several fortunate encounters, he gives battle, June 14th, at
Marengo ; after a hard contest Fortune, aided by General De-
saix,* and General Kellermann,^ declares for him when even
he himself no longer hoped for it. The armistice which fol-
lowed made him again master of Italy. Warned by the fears
that he had had of a defeat, he knew now better how to profit
by his victory without abusing it. He felt the need of strength-
ening his power before increasing it, and knowing well that
military glory would be his principal title to power, he feared
those victories for which France would not be indebted to him,
almost as much as the reverses he endured himself. So he
hastened to set up, by his armistice, the basis of a new peace,
in which the Empire of Germany should be comprised, which

^ It would need a volume, and per-
haps I shall make it, to give a full ac-
count of this important question. The
Marquis de Lucchesini has tried it, but
in his work he has only occupied him-
self with personal justifications — a
strange way of writing the history of
one's times, for it rarely modifies the
opinions of one's contemporaries.
When one is called to settle political
questions of great importance, one must
leave to those whose private interests
have been sacrificed to the general inter-
est the consolation of blaming the ne-
gotiators and of calumniating them with-
out scruple. Up to this time, that
which appears to be most exact on that
period is the work of Baron von Ga-
gern, a man of sense, attached to the
nouse of Nassau. — Talleyrand.

* Louis-Antoine Desaix, issue of a no-
ble family originally of Ayat, near

Riom, and known before the Revolu-
tion under the name of Des Aix de
Veygous. Born in 1768, Desaix was in
1789, sub-lieutenant in the Brittany regi-
ment. He became commissary of war
in 1791, and general of division in 1794.
He was intimately associated with
Bonaparte, followed him into Egypt,
returned to Europe after the treaty of
El Arisch, and was killed at Marengo,
June 14, 1800. ,

° Francois - Etienne Kellermann

(1770-1835) was the son of the old
Marshal Kellermann, Due de Valmy.
He was general of brigade at Marengo,
where he decided the victory at the
head of his cavalry. He became peer
of France during the Hundred Days,
was excluded from the upper House
by Louis XVIII, and did not re-enter
it until 1830.

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR 321

rendered almost useless the victory of Hohenlinden,'"' which
had opened the road to Vienna to General Moreau. The treaty
between France and Austria stipulating for herself and for the
empire, was to be negotiated at Luneville, and Count Louis
von Cobenzl ' had been designated as plenipotentiary by the
Emperor, who had authorized him to go to Paris before
the opening of the negotiations. The Court of Vienna had
chosen him because he had treated at Campo-Formio with
Bonaparte, who was then only general of the Army of Italy,
and because intimate relations had then sprung up between
them which Count von Cobenzl believed it would be easy
to renew, but which the First Consul soon caused him to
forget. There happened on this occasion a rather curious
scene.

Bonaparte gave Cobenzl a first audience at nine o'clock in
the evening, at the Tuileries. Fie had attended personally to the
arrangement of the room in which he wished to receive the
Austrian plenipotentiary ; it was in the parlor which precedes
the King's study. Fie had caused to be put in the corner a
small table, in front of which he was seated ; all other seats had
been removed, there only remained sofas, which, however, were
rather far from the table. On this were papers and an inkstand
with writing materials ; there was but one lamp ; the chandelier
was not lighted. Count von Cobenzl entered : I led the way.
The gloom of the room, the distance which separated the visitor
from the table at which Bonaparte was sitting and whom the
former barely perceived ; the kind of embarrassment resulting
from these circumstances ; the attitude of Bonaparte, who rose
and seated himself again ; the impossibility in which the count
was not to remain standing, set each at once in the right place,
or, at least, in the place the First Consul intended each to
occupy.

After the conferences held at Luneville between Joseph
Bonaparte and Count von Cobenzl, they soon signed the treaty,^
and general peace was thus very nearly restored on the
Continent.

' A village of Bavaria thirty kilome- penhagcn, at Berlin and at St. Peters-

tres east of Munich. The victory of burg, plenipotentiary at Campo-For-

IMoreau over the Archduke Johan was mio, at Rastadt, and at Luneville,

obtained December 3, 1800. chancellor of state and minister of for-

' Louis, Count von Cobenzl (17=:'- eign affairs in iRoj.

1808), ambassador from Austria at Co- * February 9, 1801.

322

TALLEYRAND

A short time before, a convention made with the United
States, signed at Mortefontaine also by Joseph Bonaparte, had
terminated all the differences which existed between the French
Republic and that power.^

England, without allies abroad, and experiencing some em-
barrassment within, felt herself the need of peace. The pre-
liminaries, after some debates rather curious for all the wit
displayed for and against a maritime armistice, were concluded
at London between Mr. Addington ^^ and M. Otto.^ It was at
Amiens, that Lord Cornwallis - and Joseph Bonaparte signed
the definitive treaty. France, who had lost all her colonies,
recovered them all, without having to restore anything. Per-
haps her dignity may have suffered from her having left all
the burden of the compensations to the charge of Spain and
Holland, her allies, who had been engaged in the war only for
her sake and by her advice.^ But that is a consideration made
by few people, and which never presents itself to the minds
of the multitude, accustomed to take the success of bad faith
for cleverness.

I must not omit to state that one of the articles of the treaty
of Amiens stipulated the abandonment of Malta by the English.
Bonaparte, who, by gaining possession of this island, had
changed the fate of the Mediterranean, put great stress upon
having it restored to its old masters, and could not bear to hear
me say that I would willingly have left Malta to the English,
provided the treaty had been signed by Mr. Pitt or by Mr. Fox,
instead of by Mr. Addington.

Previous to those treaties, a kind of compact or agreement

* American commerce had greatly suf-
fered from the measures taken by the
Convention against neutrals. The
United States having signed a treaty
with England which gave to that power
the right of confiscating all ships car-
rying enemies' goods (Novemlaer, 1794),
the Convention retaliated by an iden-
tical measure, and broke off all rela-
tions with the American Cabinet. On
its side. Congress annulled all past
treatjes with France. They were ad-
vancing toward an open rupture when
Bonaparte, coming into power, abol-
ished the decrees of the Convention.
A treaty signed on September 30, 1800,
smoothed all difificulties, and the rela-
tions between the two countries re-
sumed their normal course.

1° Henry Addington, Viscount Sid-
mouth, born in 1755. Member of the
House of Commons in 1782. Chancellor

of the exchequer in 1801, he contrib-
uted actively to the Peace of Amiens.
He retired in 1804, but re-entered office
again for a short time in 1806. In 1812,
he was appointed home minister, a
post which he occupied until 1822. He
died in 1844.

1 Guillaume Otto, Comte de Mosloy
(1754-1817), was minister at London in
1800. He became minister at Munich,
councillor of state, ambassador at Vi-
enna (1S09), minister of state in 1813.

-Charles Cornwallis, statesman and
English general, born in 1738. member
of the Chamber of Lords, 1762, Gov-
ernor of India, 1786, Governor of Ire-
land, 17(33. In iSoi he was one of the
plenipotentiaries at Amiens. Again
Governor of India in 1805, he died on
reaching his post.

' Spain lost the island of Trinity, and
Holland, Ceylon.

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR 323

had put an end to the civil war which had broken out anew in
Vendee and the provinces of the West.*

At the time of the battle of Marengo, a secret bond was
formed between Bonaparte and the Papal Court.^ The victori-
ous general had held, at Milan, several conferences with an
envoy from Pius VII, elected at Venice as successor to Pius
VI : these conferences eventually led to the Concordat ^ sub-
sequently signed at Paris by Cardinal Consalvi. This compact
and its immediate ratification reconciled France with the Holy
See, without any other opposition than that of a few military
men, very brave, be it said, but whose minds were not lofty
enough for a conception of that kind.

It was after this reconciliation with the Church, to which I
powerfully contributed, that Bonaparte obtained from the Pope
a brief for my secularization. The brief is dated from Saint
Peter's of Rome, June 29, 1802.'^

It seems to me that nothing expresses better the indulgence
of Pius VII toward myself, than what he said one day to
Cardinal Consalvi, in speaking of me : " M. de Talleyrand !
ah ! ah ! may God have his soul ; as for me, I am very fond of
him ! "

Switzerland, whom the Directory, at the instigation of MM.
La Harpe ^ and Ochs ^ wished to transform into a republic
one and indivisible, had become again, as she desired, a con-
federation with the ancient leagues ; and this, by virtue of an

* A suspension of arms had been After taking the advice of the Coun-

signed in December, 1799. On January cil of State;

18, 1800, M. d'Autichamp surrendered in Order: The brief of Pope Pius Vll,
the name of the provinces of the left given at Saint-Peter of Rome on June
bank of the Loire. On the 20th, M. de 29, 1802, according to which citizen
Chatillon did the same in the name of Charles Maurice de Talleyrand, Minis-
the right bank. In Brittany, M. de ter of Foreign Affairs of France, is au-
liourmont gave himself up on January thorized to resume secular and lay life,
2Jth, and Georges Cadoudal on the 27th, shall take full and entire effect,
so that the whole country was soon xhe First Consul: BONAPARTE.
^'4's''early as June, 1800, Bonaparte The Secretary of State: H. B. MARET.
had opened negotiations with the Court , , tt ,
of Rome, through the medium of Cardi- ® Fredenc-Cesar de la Harpe Clo-
nal Martiniane, Bishop of Verceil. 1838), born in the canton of Vaud, had

*The Concordat was signed on July taken an active part in the troubles
IS, 1801. Cardinal Consalvi was the which broke out in that country. Pro-
secretary of state to the Court of Rome. scribed after the victory of the canton

7 APT OF TKF GOVFRNMENT «* ^^^^n, and obliged to take refuge m

'ACl Vt lilt L.UV£.KiN.vi£,iNi France, he brought about the interven-

ORDER OF FRUCTIDOR 2, YEAR X tJQjj of the Directory; he was named

The Consuls of the Republic; accord- director at the time of the proclamation

ing to the brief of Pope Pius VII given of the Helvetian Republic (1798)-

at Saint-Peter of Rome, on June 29, " Pierre Ochs (1749-1824) was also a

1802 • Swiss refugee compromised after the

In accordance with the report of the rising of the canton of Vaud. He was

councillor of state intrusted with all a member of the Helvetian senate and

matters relative to public worship; director in 1798.

324

TALLEYRAND

act called the act of mediation, because France had served as
mediator between all the old and new cantons. ^^

Spain, in accordance with the clauses of the treaty of Basel,
had restored Louisiana to France who, in consideration of the
payment of a certain sum, ceded it to the United States (April
30, 1803). The latter kept a portion of the price as indemnity
for the losses sustained by American citizens in consequence
of the absurd decrees of the Convention.

The Ottoman Porte, Portugal, the Two Sicilies, had renewed
their old ties of friendship and of commerce with France.^

The distribution of the secularized territories in Germany
was being made under the double mediation of France and of
Russia.^

It can be said without the least exaggeration, that at the time
of the Peace of Amiens, France was outwardly in possession of a
power, a glory, an influence, than which the minds of the most
ambitious could have desired no greater for their country ; and
what rendered this situation more marvellous still was the
rapidity with which it had been created. In less than tv/o
years and a half, that is to say from the i8th Brumaire (Novem-
ber 9, 1799), to March 25, 1802, date of the Peace of Amiens,
France had passed from the humiliating depths into which the
Directory had plunged it, to the first rank of Europe.

But while occupying himself with foreign affairs, Bonaparte
had not neglected those at home. His incredible activity suf-

1" The intervention of the Directory
in Switzerland had only increased the
disorder; so, when in 1802, Bonaparte
proposed his mediation, it was imme-
diately accepted. All the cantons sent
deputies to Paris who entered into con-
ference with MM. Barthelemy, Fouche,
and Roederer. The Act of Mediation
was signed February ig, 1803. It fixed
for each canton a special constitution,
and organized a federal power. On
October 19th, following, a treaty of al-
liance was made between France and
Switzerland.

^ Treaty with Turkey, June 25, 1802.
With Portugal, September 20, 1801.
With the Two Sicilies, March 28, 1801.
These last two powers promised to close
their ports to the English.

- Before the wars of the Revolution,
the left bank of the Rhine was covered
with secular and ecclesiastic principali-
ties. _ The treaties of Campo-Formio and
Luneville in ceding to France all those
territories had stipulated that the lay
princes should be indemnified with the
wealth of the secular clergy. It re-
mained now to apply the principle.
The Emperor, who would have had to

take this affair in hand, allowed him-
self to be forestalled by the First Con-
sul, who, being solicited by several of
the interested princes, was careful not
to fail to profit by the occasion. He
assured himself of the concurrence of
Prussia, by promising that country con-
siderable advantages (secret treaty,
May 23, 1802). The Emperor Alexan-
der, whom family alliances had united
to the houses of Bavaria, Baden, and
Wiirtemberg, entered into his views,
and declared himself the protector of the
dispossessed princes (Convention of Oc-
tober II, 1802). Immediately secret
treaties were negotiated between France
on the one side, and Wiirtemberg,
Baden, Bavaria, Hesse-Cassel on the
other, which assured their share to each
of these States. Those treaties were
submitted to the Diet, which adopted
the whole of the plan of indemnities
(decision of February 25, 1803) and the
Emperor, after much hesitation, rati-
fied that decision on the twenty-seventh
of the following April. (See Lefebvre.
" History of the Cabinets of Europe,"
vol. i. ch. vi.)

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

325

ficed for all. He had given new regulations for the administra-
tion, which he had made as much as possible monarchical. He
had skilfully re-established order in the finances. The ministers
of religion were honored. Not satisfied with crushing the vari-
ous political parties, he had sought to attach them to himself,
and he had succeeded to a certain extent. To have been an
emigre, or a Jacobin, was no longer considered a reason for
exclusion. In order to further isolate Louis XVHI and to take
away from him the kingly air that a large emigration had given
him. Napoleon permitted many emigres to re-enter France.
He bestowed appointments on many of them, and attached some
to his own person. The Jacobins forgot their aversion for
personal rule, and the emigres were led to regret less that
authority had passed into other hands. ^

In spite of the prolonged troubles of the Revolution, indus-
trial arts had reached a very prosperous state in France. Much
capital had been attracted by them. To attain high internal
prosperity, all that was now necessary was security, and the
general opinion of France was that Bonaparte had given it.

Thus those who had helped in raising him to power, had
reason to congratulate themselves. He had used his authority
in a manner to render it useful, even to make himself loved.
One could believe that he had put an end to the Revolution. In
restoring power, he had become the auxiliary of all the thrones.
The salutary influence it had acquired, gave the Consulate, in
the eyes of Europe, the stability of an old government. Con-
spiracies, from one of which Bonaparte had miraculously es-
caped, had strengthened the sentiment felt toward him by the
friends of order. Thus, when his two colleagues proposed the
primary assemblies of France to name him First Consul for
life, this proposition received an almost unanimous vote.*

The deputies of the Cisalpine Republic repaired to Lyons, in
order to obtain from the First Consul a definitive organization
for their country.^ Although the business which was to be

' T remember, that one day, as I
seemed astonished at seeing: some of the
most shameless Jacobins of the Revolu-
tion leave the stvidy of the First Consul,
he said to me: " You do not know the
Jacobins. There are two classes of
them: the sweet and the salt. The one
you just saw come out was a salt Jac-
obin; with these, I do what T wish:
no one better fit to defend all the daring
acts of a new power. Sometimes it is

necessary to stop them, but with a little
money it is soon done. But the sweet
Jacobins! ah! they are ungovernable.
With their metaphysics they would ruin
any government." — Talleyrand.

* August 2, 1802.

^ The Cisalpine Republic, proclaimed
in 1791. destroyed in 1799, re-established
after Marengo, had not seen its govern-
ment reorganized in 1800. Bonaparte,
in conjunction with the leading men of

326

TALLEYRAND

negotiated at Lyons was foreign to my duties, Bonaparte made
use of me considerably to conduct it. I was obliged to proceed
to that city in order to see the members of the deputation. In
such delicate matters he did not much rely on what was done or
said by M. Chaptal,^ his Minister of the Interior, whom he
deem.ed heavy, vain, without tact, and whom he abstained from
dismissing in order not to grieve Cambaceres," who protected
him. On arriving at Lyons, I saw M. de Melzi,^ with whom I
had been acquainted a long time, and I unbosomed myself to
him, not as to what the First Consul desired, but as to what
should be the demands of the Cisalpine Republic. In a few days
I achieved my purpose. At the moment Bonaparte entered
Lyons all was prepared. From the second day, the principal
Milanese pressed him to accept the presidency for life, and from
gratitude, he consented to substitute for the name of Cisalpine
Republic that of Kingdom of Italy,® and to name vice-president
M. de Melzi, who, having presented to him the keys of Milan
on his first invasion, was sufficiently compromised toward Aus-
tria for Bonaparte to place in him every confidence.

Until the time of the Peace of Amiens, Bonaparte may have
committed many faults, for what man is free from them ? But
none of the plans he had conceived were such that any true and
patriotic Frenchman could have felt any reluctance to contrib-
ute to their execution. One may not always have agreed as to

the country, gave it a definite organiza-
tion. There were three electoral col-
leges, named for life: that of the great
landlords, that of the merchants, that
of the men of letters and ecclesiastics
—in all, 700 electors. These elected a
Commission de Censure, charged to
name to all the bodies of the State,
namely, a Senate of eight members, a
Council of State, and a legislative
body, which had the same privileges as
in France. At the head of the repub-
lic were a president and a vice-presi-
dent. In January, 1802, Bonaparte sum-
moned at Lyons a large meeting of
nearly 500 members to approve the Con-
stitution. The presidency of that meet-
ing was awarded to him.

' Antoine Chaptal, born in 1756, was
already an illustrious sarant when he
entered upon a public career. He be-
came councillor of state and minister
of the_ interior after the eighteenth
Brumaire, then senator and Comte de
Chanteloup, in 1804; minister and peer
of France during the Hundred Davs.
Louis XVITI recalled him to the Cham-
ber of Peers in tRiq. He died in 18.32.

' Jean Jacques-Txcgis de Cambaceres,
born at Montpellier in 1753 of an old

family of magistrates. Counsellor at the
Court of Accounts of Montpellier. Dep-
uty from Herault to the Convention, he
voted the death of the King, with this
restriction, that the decree was only to
be put into execution if France should
be invaded by the enemy. He was pres-
ident of the Convention after the ninth
Thermidor, then member and president
of the Council of Five Hundred; min-
ister of justice in 1798. He was elected
Second Consul after the eighteenth
Brumaire. In 1804, Cambaceres became
prince arch-chancellor of the empire and
Due de Parma. Exiled in 1815, he died
in 1824.

* Francois Meizi d'Eril (1753-1816)
had been, from its foundation, one of the
most ardent defenders of the Cisalpine
Republic. He became afterward Due de
Lodi, grand-chancellor and keeper of
the seals of the Viceroy Eugene.

* There is here an error in the text.
The Kingdom of Italy dates only from
1805 (the consecration at Milan was on
May 26th). M. de Talleyrand has evi-
dently meant to say that in 1802, tlpe
official denomination of Italian Repub-
lic was substituted for that of Cisalpine
Republic.

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

327

the excellence of the means resorted to by Bonaparte, but the
utility of the aim could not be contested, being simply, on the
one hand, to bring foreign wars to an end, and, on the other
hand, to close the revolutionary era by re-establishing mon-
archy, which, in my candid opinion, it was then impossible to
do in favor of the legitimate heirs of the last king.

The Peace of Amiens was scarcely concluded, when Bona-
parte began to give up moderation ; the provisions of that peace
had not yet been carried out, when he already sowed the seeds
of new wars which, after overwhelming Europe and France,
were to lead him to his ruin.

Piedmont ought to have been given back to the King of Sar-
dinia immediately after the Peace of Luneville ; it was merely
in trust in the hands of France. To give it up would have been
both an act of strict justice and a very wise policy. Bonaparte,
on the contrary, annexed it to France. I made vain efforts to
dissuade him from such a measure. He believed his personal
interest required him to do so, his pride seemed to him to claim
that arbitrary step, and all the counsels of prudence failed to
alter his mind in that respect.^**

Although he had by his victories contributed to the aggran-
dizement of France, none of the territories with which it had
been aggrandized had been conquered by the armies which he
had commanded. It was under the Convention that the county
of Avignon, Savoy, Belgium, the left bank of the Rhine had
been added to France ; and Bonaparte could not claim any of
those conquests as coming from him personally. To rule, and
to rule hereditarily, as he aspired to do over a country aggran-
dized by generals formerly his equals, and whom he wished to
become his subjects, seemed to him almost humiliating, and
moreover, might arouse an opposition which he was anxious to
avoid. It was thus that, in order to justify his pretensions to
the title of sovereign, he deemed it necessary to annex to France
countries which he alone had conquered. He had crushed

^° On December 9, 1798, King Charles-
Emmanuel, being vanquished and dis-
possessed, had renounced the throne for
himself and heirs, and given his sub-
jects orders to obey in future the French
authorities. Thereupon, Piedmont was
subjected to the direct rule of French
generals. In 1800, before Marengo and
Hohenlinden, Bonaparte, in his prelim-
inaries of peace, offered to return Pied-

mont to the King of Sardinia. His sub-
sequent victories made him more exact-
ing, and on the occasion of the treaty
of Luneville, he refused to bind himself
at all in that respect. On April 19, 1801,
Piedmont was divided into six depart-
ments and became a military division;
on September 4, 1802, it was annexed to
France.

328

TALLEYRAND

Piedmont in 1796; and his victories in that quarter seemed to
him to justify the arbitrary views he entertained toward that
country. He accordingly caused the Senate to assent to and
proclaim the annexation of Piedmont to France, never think-
ing that anyone might call him to account for so monstrous a
violation of what the law of nations consider as most sacred.
His illusion was not destined to last long.

The English Government had made peace only out of neces-
sity; as soon as the home difficulties which had caused the
making of peace almost unavoidable, were overcome, the Eng-
lish Cabinet, who had not yet restored Malta, and wished to
keep it, seized the occasion offered by the annexation of Pied-
mont to France, and took up arms again. ^

But events quickened Bonaparte's resolution to transform
the consulate for life into an hereditary monarchy. The Eng-
lish had landed on the coasts of Brittany a few devoted and
most enterprising emigres. Bonaparte took advantage of this
new royalist plot, in which he flattered himself to implicate, at
the same time, Dumouriez,^ Pichegru, and Moreau, his three
rivals in glory, to wrench from the Senate the title of Emperor.
But that title, which, with moderation and wisdom, he would
just as w^ell have obtained, though perhaps not quite so
soon, became the meed of violence and crime. He ascended
the throne, but a throne besmeared with innocent blood —
blood which former and glorious recollections made dear to
France.

The violent and unexplained death of Pichegru, the means
used to obtain the conviction of Moreau, might be put to the
account of policy ; but the assassination of the Due d'Enghien.^
committed solely in order, by placing himself in their ranks, to
make sure of those whom the death of Louis XVI caused to
fear all manner of power not coming from them, this assassina-
tion, I say, could be neither excused nor forgiven, nor has it

^ May 16, 1803.

" Charles-Frangois Duperrier-Dumou-
ricz, born at Cambrai in 1739, entered
the army at sixteen. In 1763, he
changed the sword for diplomacy, and
became one of the most active secret
agents of the King. Under Louis XVI,
he was appointed Governor of Cher-
bourg, and brigadier-general. In 1792,
he joined the Girondist Cabinet as min-
ister of foreign affairs (March 15th),
and three months later, was appointed

general-in-chief of the Army of the
North. Victorious at Valmy and at
Jemmapes, but defeated at Nerwinden,
and on the point of beine; tried, he en-
tered into negotiations with Prince von
Coburg, delivered into the hands of the
Austrians the commissioners sent by
the Convention to arrest him, and him-
self went over to the enemy. He lived
abroad until his death (1823), often en-
gaged in royalist intrigues and plots.
^ IMnrch 21, 1804.

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

329

ever been so ; Bonaparte has therefore been reduced to boast
of it.*

The new war in which Bonaparte found himself engaged with
England necessitating the employment of all his resources, it
only needed the most common prudence to abstain from under-
taking anything that might induce the powers on the Continent
to m.ake common cause with his enemy. But vanity still pre-
vailed in him. It was not sufficient for him to have himself
proclaimed under the name of Napoleon, Emperor of the
French ; it was not sufficient for him to have been consecrated
by the Sovereign Pontiff ; he wished besides to be King of
Italy, in order to be emperor and king as well as the head of
the house of Austria. Consequently he had himself crowned
at Milan, and instead of taking simply the title of King of Lom-
bardy, he chose the more ambitious, and, therefore, more alarm-
ing title of King of Italy, as if his design were to submit Italy
entirely to his sceptre ; and that there might be less doubt as
to his intentions, Genoa and Lucca, ^ where his agents had skil-
fully aroused fear, sent him deputations by the agency of whom
the one gave herself to him, the other asked as a sovereign a
member of his family ; and both under different names, since
then, form a part of that which for the first time began to be
called the great empire.

The consequences of that conduct were such as could be
naturally foreseen. Austria took up arms, and a continental war
became imminent. Then Napoleon tried negotiations on all
sides. He attempted to draw Prussia into his alliance, ** by offer-
ing her Hanover, and when on the point of succeeding, he
caused everything to fail by sending to Berlin General Duroc,'^
who by his awkward bluntness, destroyed the good effect of
the advances previously made according to my instructions by
M. de la Forest,^ who was there as Minister of France.

* Prince Talleyrand has devoted to the
affair of the Due d'Enghien a special
chapter, which will be published in one
of the subsequent volumes of these
" Memoirs."

' After the conventions of October 10,
1796, and June 6, 1797, the Republic of
Genoa, transformed into Ligurian Re-
public, was the ally of France. It was
on June 3, 1805, that the senate and the
doge solicited tlie annexing of their city
to France, which was immediately en-
forced. As to Lucca, it was assigned to
F.lisa Bonaparte, Princess of Piombino
(June 24, 1805).

* From 1803 to 1805, Napoleon on the
one side, and Austria and Russia on the
other, disputed for the alliance of Prus-
sia. King Frederick William dared not
take any decision. However, in 1805, he
signed with France a simple compact of
neutrality.

' Duroc was from 1796 the favorite
aide-de-camp of Napoleon. Born in
1772, he became under the empire gen-
eral of division, grand marshal of the
palace, and Due de Frioul. He was
killed at Wurtschen, May 22, 1813.

* Antoine. Comte de la Forest (i7?6-
1847), minister at Munich, 1801; at the

330 TALLEYRAND

The Emperor was more fortunate with the Electors of Ba-
varia, Wiirtemberg and Baden, whom he maintained this time
in his alhance.

The camp of Boulogne, which he formed at this period for
the purpose of menacing the coasts of England, had for first
result to make the war popular in that country, and of creating
there an as yet unheard-of thing, a numerous permanent army.
And it was while Napoleon seemed absorbed by the organiza-
tion of that camp, that the Austrians crossed the Inn, traversed
Bavaria, occupied the centre of Suabia, and were already arriv-
ing on the banks of the Rhine. It was nevertheless this precipi-
tation of the Austrians which preserved Napoleon from the
more than critical position in which he would have been placed,
if they had awaited the arrival of the Emperor Alexander and
his hundred thousand Russians, who were on the march to
join themselves to them, for Prussia would have been infallibly
drawn into the coalition, but the Austrians wished to show that,
alone, they were able to engage the struggle and win the day.

Napoleon, with the military genius and the celerity which
make his glory, at once availed himself of this blunder. In a
few weeks, one might say in a few days, he transported the
large army of the camp of Boulogne to the banks of the Rhine,
whence he led it to new victories.

I received instructions to accompany him to Strasburg, there
to be ready to follow his headquarters according to circum-
stances (September, 1805). A fit which happened to the
Emperor at the beginning of this campaign frightened me very
much. The very day of his departure from Strasburg, I had
dinner with him ; on leaving the table, he went to see the
Empress Josephine. He had only been with her a few minutes,
when suddenly he came out of her apartment; I was in the
drawing-room, he took me by the arm and led me into his room.
M. de Remsuat,'' the first chamberlain, who came for instruc-
tions, entered at the same time. We were hardly there, when
the Emperor fell on the floor ; he had barely time to tell me

Diet at Ratisbon, 1802; at Berlin. 1803; olution. In 1802, he became prefect of

ambassador at Madrid in 1807. Minis- the palace; chief chamberlain in 1804,

ter and peer of France under the res- and superintendent of theatres. In

toration. 1815, he was appointed prefect of tlie

' Auguste, Comte de Remusat, born NoVd, and subsequently of the Haute-

in 1762, was in 1789, an advocate to the Garonne department. He was dismissed

Cour des Comptes at Aix. lie stayed in 1821, and died in 1823.
in France during the whole of the Rev-

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

33^

to close the door. I tore away his cravat, because it seemed
to choke him ; he did not vomit, he groaned and foamed at the
mouth. M. de Remusat gave him some water, and I bathed
him with Cologne water. He had a kind of convulsions that
ceased after a quarter of an hour; we placed him on an arm-
chair ; he commenced to speak, dressed himself again, and en-
joined secrecy on us ; half an hour later, he was on his way to
Carlsruhe. On reaching Stuttgart, he wrote me to give me
news of his health ; his letter ended with these words, " I am
well. The Duke of Wiirtemberg came to meet me as far as
outside the first gate of his palace ; he is a man of sense." A
second letter from Stuttgart, bearing the same date, ran as fol-
lows : " I am acquainted with Mack's movements ; these are
all I could desire. He will be caught in Ulm, like a fool ! " ^'^

Some people have since endeavored to spread the rumor that
Mack had been bribed ; this is false ; it was only their pre-
sumption that caused the defeat of the Austrians. It is known
how their army, partially beaten on several points and driven
back into Ulm, was obliged to capitulate; it remained there
prisoner of war, after having passed under the yoke.

In announcing to me his victory, Napoleon wrote me what
were, in his idea, the conditions he wished to impose upon
Austria, and what territories he wished to take from her. I
replied to him that his real interest was not to enfeeble Aus-
tria, that in taking from her on one side, he must return to
her on the other, in order to make of her an ally. The memo-
randum in which I set forth my reasons, struck him so that
he placed the matter for deliberation before the council he held
at Munich, whither I had gone to meet him, and induced him
to follow the plan I had proposed to him, and which can still
be found in the archives of the government.^ But new advan-

^^ Charles, Baron von Mack von Lie-
berich, born in 1752. He was several
times in command of Austrian armies,
but was always beaten. He signed the
capitulation of Ulm on October igth.
Having been, shortly after, tried by
court-martial, he was sentenced to
death, but the Emperor Francis com-
muted the sentence into an imprison-
ment which only lasted a few years. He
died in oblivion in 1828.

^ This memorandum has recently been
published in the " Lettres inedites de
Talleyrand a Napoleon, par Pierre Ber-
trand " (Paris, 1889, one volume, 8vo,
pp. 156). Foreseeing that the design of

the Emperor was already to crush Aus-
tria in order to make sooner or later his
junction with Russia, Talleyrand seeks
to turn him aside from his purpose, and
warmly recommends the Austrian alli-
ance. He wishes to make Austria the
bulwark of Europe against Rvissia, and
for this end to put her in contact with
this empire by ceding to her Moldavia,
W'allachia, Bessarabia, and a part of
Bulgaria. In exchange, they could
then take away all her possessions in
Italy and Suabia. This system would
have beside another advantage; it
would remove all contact between the
empire of Napoleon and that of the

332

TALLEYRAND

tages broiig-ht about by one of the divisions of his advance
guard, firing his imagination, made him desire to march upon
Vienna, to hasten to new successes, and to date decrees from
the Imperial Palace of Schoenbrunn.

Master in less than three weeks of all Upper Austria and
of all that part of the Lower which is at the south of the Dan-
ube, he crosses this river and enters in Moravia. If then
60,000 Prussians had invaded Bohemia, and 60,000 others come
by Franconia had occupied the road to Lintz, it is doubtful if
he could have succeeded in escaping with his person. If the
Austro-Russian army that he had in front of him, and which
was about 120,000 men strong, had only avoided all general
action and given to the Archduke Charles time to arrive with
the 75,000 men who were under his orders, instead of dictating
laws, Napoleon would have been under the necessity of submit-
ting to them. But, far from coming with her army, Prussia
sent a negotiator, who, out of folly or crime, did nothing of
what he was charged to do, and dug the precipice where his
country itself was shortly to be ingulfed.^

The Emperor Alexander, who was wearily waiting at Ol-
miitz, and who had not yet seen any battle, desired to have the
amusement of it ; and, in spite of the representations of the
Austrians, in spite of the advice the King of Prussia had sent
him to abstain, he fought the battle known under the name of
battle of Austerlitz, and lost it completely, deeming himself
fortunate to be permitted to withdraw by daily stages, as the
armistice, subsequently signed, imposed on him the humiliating
obligation of doing.

Never has a military feat been more glorious. I still see
Napoleon re-entering Austerlitz on the evening of the battle.
He lodged at a house belonging to Prince von Kaunitz ; and
there, in his chamber, yes, in the very chamber of Prince von
Kaunitz, were brought at every moment Austrian flags, Russian

Hapsburgs, and suppress thereby all
pretext for war. Hence the Franco-
Austrian alliance, being made solid and
durable, would be the safeguard of all
western Europe.

" The King of Prussia had ended by
yielding to the entreaties of the Em-
peror of Russia, and had signed with
Iiim a convention (November 3, 1805),
according to which he bound himself
to propose his nrmod mrdiation, and
if it were not accepted by Xapoleon on

December isth, to declare war against
him. Count von Haugwitz, who was
intrusted with the negotiation, was only
received by Napoleon on December
13th, at Schoenbrunn, and there, fright-
ened by the menaces of tlie Emperor,
instead of acting according to his in-
structions, he allowed to be imposed
UDon him a treaty of alliance, of which
Hanover was the price (December
15th).

FROM CONSUL TO EMrEROR

-J -J -»

flags, messages from the archdukes, and from the Emperor of
Austria, and prisoners bearing the names of all the great houses
cf the Austrian monarchy.

As all these trophies came in, I remember that a messenger
entered the yard bringing letters from Paris, together with the
mysterious portfolio in which M. de la Valette ^ inclosed the
secret or private letters which were of any importance, and the
reports of all the French police. In war, the arrival of letters is
a most pleasant event. Napoleon, by having the letters imme-
diately distributed, relaxed and recompensed his army.

I must not omit to mention here a peculiar incident which
fully depicts the character of Napoleon and his opinions. The
Emperor, who at this time had great confidence in me, asked
me to read to him his correspondence. We began with the
deciphered letters of the foreign ambassadors in Paris ; they
interested him but little, because all the great news of the world
took place about him. We then went on to the police reports ;
several spoke of the difficulties of the Bank of France, brought
on by some bad measures of the minister of finances, M. de
Marbois.* However, the report to which he paid most atten-
tion was that of Madame de Genlis ; it was long and written
entirely in her own hand. She spoke of the spirit of Paris, and
quoted a few offensive conversations held, she said, in those
houses which were then called the Faubourg Saint-Germain ;
she named five or six families, which, never, she added, would
rally to the government of the Emperor. Some rather biting
expressions which Madame de Genlis reported set Napoleon in
an inconceivable state of fury ; he swore and stormed against
the Faubourg Saint-Germain. "Ah! they think themselves

^ Marie Chamans, Comte de la Va-
lette (1769-1830), was then director-gen-
eral of the post-offices of France. He
had, at first, entered the army, and had
become a captain and confidential aide-
de-camp of Napoleon. Sentenced to
death in 1815, he was saved, thanks to
the devotion of his wife. Mademoiselle
Emilie de Beauharnais, niece of the Em-
press Josephine.

* Frangois, Comte, afterward Marquis,
de Barbe-Marbois (1745-1837), former
deputy to the Conseil des Anciens, di-
rector, minister of the public treasury
in 180;;; he was later (from 1S08 to 1837)
first president of the Cour des Comptes.
In connection with a financial crisis for
which he was held responsible, he was
dismissed from the Cabinet in 1806. He
had consented that certain State con-

tractors, forming a company known un-
der the name of Negociants reunis,
should be paid in such a way as to ex-
clude almost entirely the control of the
treasury. That company had betrayed
the confidence of the minister, and com-
promised the finances of the State in
risky speculations, the result of which
was that in October, 1805, the Bank of
France only possessed £60,000 in cash,
whereas the amount of payments it had
to make was £3,680,000. The panic that
ensued much disturbed the market for
several months. On his return to Paris,
the Emperor appointed M. Mollien to
M. de Barbe-Marbois's post. (See
Thiers's " Le Consulat et I'Empire '"
[vol. vi. p. 30 and fol. 187 and fol. 375]
and M. Mollien's " Memoirs.")

334

TALLEYRAND

stronger than I," said he. " Gentlemen of the Faubourg Saint-
Germain, we shall see, we shall see." And that we shall see 1
came when ? . . . But a few hours after a decisive victory
obtained over the Russians and the Austrians. So much
strength and power did he recognize in public opinion, and
especially in that of a few nobles, whose only action was lim-
ited to keeping aloof from him. So, on returning to Paris
later on, he regarded as a great achievement the fact that Mes-
dames de Montmorency/ de Mortemart," and de Chevreuse,"
accepted the post of ladies in waiting to the Empress, thus
ennobling Madame de Bassano ^ who had been appointed with
them.

At the end of twenty-four hours, I left Austerlitz. I had
spent two hours on this terrible battle-field; Marshal Lannes
had taken me there, and I owe it to his honor, and perhaps to
military honor in general, to say that this same man who, on
the evening before, had performed such prodigious feats of
valor, who had displayed unprecedented courage as long as
he had enemies to fight, was about to faint when his eyes gazed
on the dead and maimed soldiers of all nations ; he was so
moved that, when showing me the different points where the
principal attacks had been made, he said to me : " I cannot
stay longer, unless you wish to come with me to knock down
these villanous Jews who are robbing the dead and the dying."

The negotiations, of which, before this great battle, there had
only been a pretence, then became serious. They commenced
at Brunn in Moravia, and ended at Presburg,^ where General
Giulay ^° and the loyal Prince Johan von Lichtenstein ^ had
repaired with me.

^ Valentine de Harchies, married to
Anne, Comte de Montmorency (1787-
1858).

' Eleonore de Montmorency, born in
1777, married to Victor de Rochechou-
art. Marquis de Mortemart. She was
lady in waiting to the Empress in 1806.

' Frangoise de Narbonne-Pelet, mar-
ried in 1802 to Charles-Andre d'Albert,
Due de Luynes and de Chevreuse. She
was lady of the household of the Em-
press in 1807, and died in 1813.

' Madame Maret, the wife of the Em-
peror's minister.

* December 26, 1805. Austria lost all
her Italian possessions, which were
united with the new Kingdom of Italy.
The Tyrol and Vorarlberg, the princi-

Eality of Eichstedt, the city of Augs-
urg, and several other manors were

assigned to Bavaria. The Count de
Hohenberg, the Landgrave of Nellen-
burg, a part of Brisgau, and seven other
important cities were given to Wiirtem-
berg. The Elector of Baden received
Ortenau, the rest of Brisgau, and Con-
stance. Finally, the title of King was
acknowledged for the Electors of Ba-
varia and of Wtirtemberg, and that of
Grand Duke for the Elector of Baden.

1" Count Ignatius Giulay (1763-1831)
became general in 1800. He took part
in all the wars of his time, became field-
marshal in 1813, chief commander of
Bohemia in 1823, and president of the
Aulic Council, 1830.

1 Johan von Lichtenstein, Prince Sov-
ereign of Germany, born in Vienna in
1766; general in the Austrian army in
1794. In 1814, he retired to his princi-

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR 335

While I was in the first of these cities, the Emperor Napo-
leon dictated to Duroc, and Count von Haugwitz, minister of
Prussia, signed, a treaty (December 15, 1805), in which were
mentioned the cessions exacted from Austria, and by which
Prussia herself ceded Anspach and Neufchatel, in exchange for
Hanover which she received. Napoleon had successes of all
kinds ; and he abused them beyond measure, above all by dat-
ing from Vienna, a short time after, the insolent decree in
which he declared that Ferdinand IV, King of the Two Sicilies,
had ceased to. reign, and gave to Joseph Bonaparte, his eldest
brother, the kingdom of Naples, which he conquered easily,
and that of Sicily, over which his imagination only has ever
reigned.

The system that Napoleon then adopted, the secret of which
I have mentioned, was the first act that must be^i-eckoned among
the causes of his fall. I will make known later, with special
reference to each of the new kings he made, all that there was
impolitic and destructive in this method of overthrowing gov-
ernments in order to create others which he was not slow to pull
down again, and that in all parts of Europe.

Austria, in the state of distress to which she now was re-
duced, could not do otherwise than accept the conditions im-
posed by her victor. Those conditions were harsh indeed, and
the treaty made with Count von Haugwitz made it impossible
for me to mitigate them in any other clauses than those relative
to the indemnity to be paid to France. I, at least, managed that
the conditions imposed on Austria should not be rendered worse
by any fallacious interpretation. Being master of the wording,
of which Napoleon's influence was minimized by the distance
I was from him, I applied myself to make it free from any am-
biguity ; so that, although he had obtained everything that it
was possible for him to obtain, the treaty did not please him.
He wrote to me some time after : " You have made me, at
Presburg, a treaty that annoys me a great deal ; " which did
not, however, prevent him giving me, a short time after, a
marked proof of satisfaction by creating me Prince of Bene-
vento, the territory of which was occupied by his troops. I say
with pleasure that, thereby, this duchy, which remained my

pality, over which he reigned until his between the Tyrol and Switzerland;
death. (Principality of Lichtensteia, 8,000 inhabitants; chief town, Vaduz.)

33^

TALLEYRAND

property until the Restoration, was saved all sorts of vexa-
tions, and even conscription.

Count von Haugwitz surely deserved to pay with his head for
the treaty he had dared to make without authority and against
what he knew perfectly well to be the wish of his sovereign ;
but to punish him would have been to attack Napoleon himself.
The King of Prussia dared not disclaim it; he had even the
weakness to resist the noble solicitations of the Queen; and yet,
ashamed to give his approbation to such an act, he at first only
ratified the treaty conditionally. But, for the conditional rati-
fication which Napoleon rejected, he was obliged, under pain of
having him for an enemy, to substitute one pure and simple,
which constituted Prussia at war with England.-

Napoleon, since he was Emperor, wished for no more repub-
lics, above all in his vicinity. Consequently he changed the
government of Holland, and eventually demanded that one of
his brothers should be King of that country.^ Pie did not sus-
pect then that his brother Louis, whom he had chosen, was too
honest a man to accept the title of King of Holland, without
becoming a thorough Hollander.

The dissolution of the German Empire was already implicitly
operated by the treaty of Presburg, since it had recognized as
kings the Electors of Bavaria and Wiirtemberg, and the
Elector of Baden as Grand Duke. This dissolution was con-
summated by the act which instituted the Confederation of the
Rhine,* an act which cost the existence of a host of small states
preserved by the rescript of 1803, and that I tried once more to
save. But I succeeded only for a small number of them, the
principal confederates not wishing to accept this act unless they
obtained territorial compensations.

Murat, one of Napoleon's brothers-in-law, to whom the
countries of Cleves and Berg had been given in sovereignty,

- Definitive treaty of alliance of Feb-
ruary IS, 1806. ratified by the King of
Prussia, March gth.

' Louis Bonaparte was proclaimed
King of Holland, June 3, 1806.

* The old German Empire existed no
longer, except in name, in 1806. Napo-
leon gave it the last blow, July 12, 1806.
by the compact he signed with thirteen
German princes, the principal of whom
were Baron von Dalberg, Archbishop of
Mayence, Prince Primate of Germany,
the Kings of Bavaria and Wiirtemberg,
the Grand Duke of Baden, the Land-

grave of Hesse-Darmstadt, etc. By the
terms of this compact, the contracting
princes separated themselves from the
empire, and constituted a Confederation
of the Rhine, acknowledging as pro-
tector the Emperor Napoleon, and
signed with him a treaty of alliance,
offensive and defensive. The Emperor
Francis could but recognize the accom-
plished facts. On August 6th following,
he declared the German Empire dis-
solved, abdicated the title of Kmperor
of Germany, and took that of Emperor
of Austria.

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

337

was included in that confederation, with the title of Grand
Duke ; he exchanged it later for that of King, which it would
have been much better for him never to have obtained.

While the King of Prussia was embroiling himself with Eng-
land by occupying Hanover, the latter was thinking of treating
with France. Mr. Pitt being dead,^ Mr. Fox, who was not des-
tined to survive him long, had become, by dint of talent and in
spite of the repugnance of the King, chief secretary of state for
foreign affairs in the Cabinet of which Lord Grenville ^ was
the nominal head. No one detested more than Mr. Fox the
oppression of the government of Napoleon; but whether not
to put his conduct in contradiction with the language he had
used during some years as chief of the opposition, or from a
real desire for peace, he believed he ought to make pacific dem-
onstrations. He wrote to me '^ to inform me of an intended
attempt on the life of the Emperor (or of the leader of the
French, as he named him in the letter), which had been revealed
to him by one of the wretched authors of the plot.

I eagerly seized this occasion, and in thanking him in the
name of the Emperor, I expressed dispositions which were soon
followed by overtures made by the channel of Lord Yarmouth.
After two or three conferences, Mr. Fox, to be agreeable to
Lord Grenville, adjoined Lord Lauderdale ^ with Lord Yar-
mouth.

On his side, the Emperor Alexander sent to Paris M. d'Oubri
to arrange a reconciliation. I induced him to make a treaty,
which he negotiated with Mr. Clarke.® The Emperor of Rus-
sia, who did not wish to go so far, refused to ratify it, and dis-
graced him who had signed it.

As to the negotiation which had been well begun by Lord
Yarmouth, and spoiled by Lord Lauderdale, it ended in aveng-
ing England on Prussia much more than England herself
would have wished.

* January 23, 1806.

• William Wyndham, Lord Grenville
(1759-1834), secretary of state for home
affairs, and afterward for foreign af-
fairs (1791). He retired in 1801.

' February :o, 1806.

' James Maitland, Earl of Lauderdale,
born in 1759, peer of Scotland in 1789.
He came to France at this period, and
associated himself with the leading Gi-
rondists. Always a friend of France, he
combated the policy of Pitt, became, in

1806, privy councillor, keeper of the
Scotch seal, ambassador extraordinary
at Paris. In 1816, he protested loudly
against the detention of Napoleon. He
died in retirement in 1S39.

" October 14, 1806. General Comte
Clarke (1765-181S), became in the fol-
lowing year (1S07), secretary of war,
and was created Due de Feltre. He
was appointed Marshal of France under
the restoration.

338 TALLEYRAND

Peace between England and France was morally impossible
without the restitution of Hanover ; and Napoleon having dis-
posed of that country for equivalents, which he had also dis-
posed of, the restitution was likewise morally impossible. But
the Emperor, who held as real only the difficulties which could
not be overcome by sheer force, did not hesitate to admit this
restitution as one of the bases of the agreement to be made.
He said to himself : " Prussia, who has received Hanover
through fear, will return it through fear ; and, as for the equiv-
alents which she has given, I shall compensate them by promises
which will meet the pride of the Cabinet, and with which the
country shall be obliged to be satisfied."

Prussia could not long be ignorant of this treacherous pro-
ceeding; the English were interested in making Prussia know
it, and, in addition, Prussia was soon to be the victim of an-
other perfidy.

In the conversations which Count von Haugwitz had had at
Vienna as well as at Paris, with the Emperor Napoleon, the
latter had spoken to him of his project of dissolving the Ger-
man Empire, and of substituting for it two confederations, one
of the South, the other of the North. He did not wish, he said,
to have any influence except over the first ; Prussia would be
at the head of the second. The Prussian Cabinet allowed itself
to be allured by this project, but when they wished to proceed
with the demarcation of the two confederations, Napoleon de-
clared that Prussia could not include in her part either the
Hanseatic cities or Saxony, that is to say, the only countries
which were not already under the influence and protection of
Prussia. The latter, seeing herself cheated, took counsel only
of the irritation which reigned in all classes of the nation, and
rushed to arms.

It was not without secret uneasiness that the Emperor went,
for the first time, to measure his strength with hers. The
ancient glory of the Prussian army imposed upon him; but
after an action of only four hours, the phantom vanished, and
the battle of Jena " put the Prussian monarchy completely at
the mercy of a conqueror, all the more pitiless that the wrongs
were on his side, and that, besides, he had had some fear, and
that they knew it.

"October 14, 1806.

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

339

Napoleon was already at Berlin, when he received an im-
prudent proclamation from the Prince of the Peace, which
seemed to announce the approaching defection of Spain. ^ He
then made up his mind to destroy at any price, the Spanish
branch of the house of Bourbon; and I, I took inwardly the
oath to cease, at whatever price, to be his minister, as soon as
we should have returned to France. He confirmed me in this
resolution by the barbarity with which, at Tilsit, he treated
Prussia, although he made me the instrument of it. This time
he did not apply to me to treat for contributions of war and for
the evacuation of the territories by his troops. He charged
Marshal Berthier ^ with this duty. He thought that, at Pres-
burg, I had acted in a manner too much opposed to what he
believed to be his real interests ; but I am anticipating events.

We remained but a few days at Berlin. Herr von Zastrow,
confidential aide-de-camp of the King, and Herr von Lucche-
sini had had permission to repair to that place. Herr von Luc-
chesini passed in Prussia for being very capable and above all
very subtle. His subtlety has often recalled to me the mot of
Dufresne, " Too much sense, that is to say not enough." These
two plenipotentiaries came to negotiate an armistice which per-
haps they might have obtained if they had not been informed
too late of the capitulation of Magdeburg. The Russian army,
it is true, was still intact, but it was too small, and besides the
Prussians were completely discouraged, all their strong places
had opened their gates, and finally Polish deputations hastened
from all sides to meet Napoleon. It did not need all this to
decide him to leave Berlin, and to march on rapidly by way of
Posen to Warsaw.

What a singular sight it was to see Napoleon go out of the
cabinet of the great Frederick, where he had just written a

1 In 1806, the Spanish Government
had for a moment the thought of
breaking off with France. The unsuc-
cess of her struggle with England, the
uneasiness caused her by the disposses-
sion of King Ferdinand, all contributed
to force her that way. The Prince of
the Peace, who then directed the poli-
tics of the Cabinet, seized the moment
when Napoleon was engaged with Prus-
sia, and issued, not in the name of the
King, but in his personal name, a rather
ambiguous proclamation, in which,
without designating anyone, he excited
the Spanish people to prepare for war.
After the victory of Jena, the Prince of
the Peace, frightened, capitulated im-

mediately, and spread abroad the re-
port that the only enemy of Spain was
England, but no one was deceived by
this change of tactics — Napoleon least
of all.

2 Marshal Alexandre Berthier, born in
1753. was major-general of the Grand
Army, and grand master of the hunt. In
1807, he became vice-constable, Prince
de Neufchatel, and Prince de Wagram.
In 1814, he supported Louis XVIII,
who named him peer of France and cap-
tain of the guards. During the Hun-
dred Days he retired to Bamberg (Ba-
varia), where he died June ist, under
very mysterious circumstances.

340 TALLEYRAND

bulletin for his army, pass into the dining-room where Mollen-
dorff,^ who was a prisoner, and Miiller,* who was the histori-
ographer of the Prussian monarchy dined with him ; to ofifer to
one and the other appointments which they accepted, then
enter his carriage and depart for Posen !

He had sent on before him General Dombrowski ^ and Count
Wybicki, who had both served under his orders in the cam-
paigns of Italy. It was from Posen that they dated a kind
of appeal to all Poland, announcing its re-establishment. This
document which had been committed to them at Berlin, dis-
closed and at the same time concealed suf^ciently the authoriza-
tion of Napoleon, to enable him to own or disown it, according
as circumstances favored or arrested his undertaking. At
Posen, they received him with enthusiasm. A deputation ar-
ranged by Murat, who was already at Warsaw, and composed
of men of sufficient position to make it believed that they spoke
in the name of the nation, was on the day after the arrival of
Napoleon, at the gate of the palace he occupied !

This deputation was numerous ; the names which have re-
mained in my memory are those of Alexander Potocki, Mala-
chowski, Gutakowski, Dzialinski. In the speech they addressed
to the Emperor, they offered him all the forces of the country.
Napoleon seized upon this ofifer, and explaining himself little
as to the rest of their demands, replied to them : " When
you shall have an army of 40,000 men, you will be worthy of
being a nation ; and then you will have a right to all my pro-
tection." The deputation returned promptly to Warsaw, full
of hope.

It was at Posen that the Emperor treated with the Elector
of Saxony, until then an ally of Prussia. The Elector joined
the Confederation of the Rhine and took the title of King.® On
this occasion. Napoleon received the list of pictures that M.
Denon ^ induced him to take from the gallery of Dresden. He

* Field-Marshal Count von Mollen- of state of the new kingdom of West-
dorff, former lieutenant of Frederick II, phalia. He died in 1809.

and one of the best generals of the ^ Jean Dombrowski, Polish general,

Prussian army. He had been grievous- one of the heroes of the insurrection

ly wounded at Auerstadt (1725-1816). of 1794. In 1795, he had offered his ser-

* Johan von Miiller, German historian, vices to the Directory, which had au-
born at Schaflfhausen in 1752, was Aulic thorized him to raise a Polish legion for
councillor at Mayence, then at Vienna. the service of France. He commanded
He came to P)erlin in 1795, and Fred- it up to 1814.

erick II named him private counsellor "December ir. 1806.

and historiographer of his house. Na- ' The Baron Denon (1747-1825) was

poleon saw him in 1806, attached him to director-general of museums,
himself, and employed him as minister

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR 341

was reading it when I entered his study, and he showed it to
me. " If your Majesty," said I to him, " carries away any of
the pictures of Dresden, you will do more than the King of Sax-
ony allowed himself to do, for he does not believe he has the
power to put any of them in his palace. He respects the gallery
as national property."

" Yes," said Napoleon, " he is a very good man ; we must
not cause him any grief, I am going to give orders not to touch
anything. We will see later."

The Emperor, being certain of having a new army corps of
at least 40,000 Poles, left a few days after for Warsaw.

Murat alone was informed of the exact moment of his arrival
in that city, which he entered in the middle of the night. At six
o'clock in the morning, the new authorities, all created by the
influence of the French officers who belonged to the army corps
of Murat, received the order to repair to the palace where they
were to be presented to the Emperor. He received with marked
distinction the most ardent among the men who came there;
they belonged to that class of patriots always ready to welcome
any change whatever in the organization of their country. He
showed himself more severe toward the others, and particularly
toward Prince Joseph Poniatowski,^ whom he blamed very
bitterly for not having consented to take his rank in the army
again until positive orders had been given him by Murat in the
name of the Emperor. By deserving this reproach made to his
fidelity. Prince Joseph secured a special place in the esteem
of the Emperor, who, at the moment he gave Poland a pro-
visory government, appointed him minister of war.

The first stay of Napoleon at Warsaw was very short. In
all the conversations he had had with the most influential per-
sons of the country, he had announced his intention to march
soon upon Grodno, adding that, the obstacles being insignifi-
cant, he would in a short time have destroyed all what he already
called the remains of the Russian army, and driven back, as he
said, these new Europeans into their former frontiers. The
quagmires of Pultusk ^ delayed for some time the execution of

* Prince Joseph Poniatowski, nephew should preserve its nationality and its

of the last King of Poland, Marshal of autonomy, and should not be incor-

France in 1813. He was drowned in the porated into the French troops.

Elster, the day after the battle of Leip- " Pultusk, a city of Russian Poland on

zig. In 1806, he put himself at the head the Narew (4,800 inhabitants). Victory

of the Polish army, after having ex- of Lannes over Benningsen in 1807.
acted and obtained that this army

342 TALLEYRAND

his plans, without, however, modifying his language. On re-
turning to Warsaw, he announced that he had just had great
successes, but that he did not wish to avail himself of advan-
tages which the season rendered very painful to his troops, and
that he was going to take up his winter quarters.

He employed that period of rest which, after all, was not long,
in organizing Poland in such a manner that she became a great
help to him, at the opening of the campaign.

And as he knew that imagination only rules in that peculiar
country, he devoted his whole care during the three weeks
which he spent in Warsaw, to exalting the military spirit of the
nation, to giving fetes, balls, concerts, to showing contempt for
the Russians, to displaying great luxury, and to speaking of
John Sobieski. He also laid his glory publicly at the feet of a
beautiful Polish lady, Madame Anastase Walewska, who fol-
lowed him to Osterode and to Finkenstein, whither he betook
himself, in order to visit all his troops.

I was to remain at Warsaw, where there was a kind of diplo-
matic corps ; I was surrounded by German ministers, whose
masters, in these destructive times, had the face to think of ob-
taining enlargements of territory. Austria, from different mo-
tives, had sent there Baron de Vincent.^*^ His instructions
v/ere confined to seeing that order was not disturbed in the
former Polish possessions which had fallen to the share of the
Emperor of Austria since the last partition of Poland, and
which were close to the seat of war. I entered into his views,
and helped him by all the means in my power to fill his mission
satisfactorily.

Napoleon had appointed as governor of Poland a man so
utterly incapable that he instructed me, during his absence, to
watch over details which were naturally among the duties of the
governor. Thus, I clothed the troops, sent them off, bought the
provisions, visited the hospitals, witnessed the dressing of
wounds, distributed gratuities, and had even to go so far as to
indicate to the governor what he ought to put in the orders of
the day. This kind of occupation, being entirely foreign to my

'" Baron Ch. de Vincent, born in Lor- was afterward sent as ambassador to

raine, entered the service of the empire; Paris. The provinces whose interests

he was employed in the negotiations were intrusted to his care in 1807, were

with Pichegru; was one of the signa- the Palatinates of Cracow, Sandomir,

tories of the treaty of Campo-Formio, and Lublin, whose frontier follows the

became, in 1814, Governor of the Low course of the river Boug.
Countries in the name of the allies, and

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR

343

usual pursuits, would have been very laborious, had I not found
in the house of Prince Poniatowski, and in that of the Countess
Vincent Tyszkiewicz, his sister, all sorts of help and assistance.
The marks of interest at first, of aifection afterward, which I
received in that excellent and noble family, are indelibly en-
graved on my grateful heart. I was grieved at leaving War-
saw. But the battle of Eylau had just been fought with a cer-
tain amount of success,^ and Napoleon, being anxious to enter
on negotiations, had instructed me to join him. However, all
the attempts made in that direction failed ; it was still neces-
sary for him to fight, and, after a few days, he understood it.
The taking of Danzig,- had raised again what is called the
spirit of the army, a little depressed by the difficulties it had
experienced at Pultusk, by the battle of Eylau, by the climate,
and, for Frenchmen, by too prolonged an absence from their
country. The Emperor, with all the troops he had collected,
marched on Heilsberg, where he won a first victory ; ^ pursu-
ing the Russians, he beat them again at Gutstadt and finally at
Friedland.*

The terror that this last defeat spread among the Russians
induced them to desire the quick termination of that great strug-
gle. An interview, to take place in the middle of the Niemen,
was proposed by Alexander; it was so romantically con-
ceived and might be so magnificently arranged, that Napoleon,
who saw in it a brilliant episode for the romance of his life,
accepted it. The bases of the peace were laid out there. We
all repaired immediately after, to Tilsit, where my instructions
were, not to negotiate with the Prussian plenipotentiaries, Gen-
eral Kalkreuth ^ and Count von Goltz,^ but to sign with them
the treaty which contained the territorial cessions of Prussia, as
they had been agreed upon between the Emperor Napoleon and
the Emperor Alexander.'^ The latter did not confine himself to

1 February 8, 1807.

- May 26th.

^ June nth.

^ June 14th.

^ Frederick-Adolphus, Count von
Kalkreuth (1737-1818). He enlisted in
1752, became field-marshal in 1807, and
governor of Berlin.

* Augustus Frederick, Count von
Goltz (1765-1832), entered in 1787 the
diplomatic service of Prussia, vi^as min-
ister at Copenhagen, at Mayence, at
Stockholm, at St. Petersburg. He be-
came in 1814, marshal of the court, then

deputy of Prussia to the Diet and coun-
cillor of state.

' July 9, 1S07. This treaty merely re-
produced certain articles of the treaty
with Russia, for Napoleon, out of in-
creased contempt for Prussia, wished to
appear to have consented to the exist-
ence of that state solely out of con-
sideration for the Emperor Alexander;
thus he had insisted that the stipula-
tions concerning Prussia should appear
to have been debated only between the
Emperor of Russia and himself. Prus-
sia lost all she possessed between the

344

TALLEYRAND

making peace, but he became, by a treaty that I negotiated and
signed with Prince Kovirakin,* the ally of Napoleon, and, by
that very reason, the enemy of his own former allies.®

The Emperor Alexander, satisfied with losing nothing, and
with gaining even something (which historians, however im-
partial they may be, will not like to admit), and with having
thus screened the interests of his pride in regard to his sub-
jects, thought he had fulfilled all the duties of friendship toward
the King of Prussia, by helping him to retain nominally half
of his kingdom; after which he left, without even taking the
precaution of ascertaining whether the half which the King
was to keep should be promptly restored to him, whether that
half should be entirely restored, and whether his Prussian Maj-
esty might not be obliged to buy it again at the cost of fresh
sacrifices. This was to be feared after the brutal question
which Napoleon one day asked the Queen of Prussia : " How
did you dare to make war against me, madam, with such feeble
means at your disposal? " " Permit me, sire, to tell your Maj-
esty that the glory of Frederick II had misled us as to the
true state of our power." That word glory, so happily placed,
and at Tilsit, in the very study of the Emperor Napoleon,
seemed to me superbly dignified. I repeated this fine reply of
the Queen, often enough for the Emperor to say to me one
day : " I cannot imagine what you think so fine in that saying
of the Queen of Prussia; you might as well speak of some-
thing else."

I was indignant at all I saw or heard, but was obliged to
conceal my indignation, and I shall ever be thankful that the
Queen of Prussia, who deserved to live in better days, was
graciously pleased to acknowledge it. If in the recollections
of my life, several are necessarily painful, I remember at least
with much sweetness the things which she then had the good-
ness to say to me, and those which she almost intrusted to

Elbe and the Rhine, including Magde- ated by Napoleon. Beside, a secret

burg, and nearly all her Polish prov- treaty of alliance was signed on the

inces. She was reduced from 9,000,000 same day. Russia promised to declare

inhabitants to 4,000,000. war against England on December ist

* Field^Marshal Prince Kourakin had following. In return, France promised
been minister and vice-chancellor of her mediation and, if need be, her alli-
Russia. After the Peace of Tilsit, he ance against Turkey, and a plan of par-
was ambassador at Paris. tition of the Ottoman Empire was aN

® The treaty with Russia was signed ranged. An expedition to India was

on July 7, 1807. The Emperor Alex- likewise mentioned. .Mready, the win-

ander recognized the new state of things ter before. Napoleon had sent General

which had taken place in the West, as Gardanne to Persia to prepare the way.
well as all the kingdoms recently ere-

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR 345

me. " Prince de Benevent," she said to me the last time I had
the honor of seeing her to her carriage, " there are only two
persons who regret my having had to come here, I and yourself.
You are not angry, are you, at my thinking so ? " The tears of
compassion and pride that filled my eyes were my sole reply.

The efforts made by this noble woman were without avail
with Napoleon ; he triumphed, and was therefore inflexible.
The promises he had caused to be broken, and those he had
obtained, had intoxicated him. He was pleased also to be-
lieve, that he had made a dupe of the Emperor of Russia ; but
time has proved that the real dupe was himself.

By the treaty of Tilsit, the youngest of his brothers, Jerome
Bonaparte had been recognized as King of Westphalia His
kingdom was composed of several of the provinces ceded by
Prussia, of the greater part of the electorate of Hesse, and
of the duchy of Brunswick- Wolfenbiittel, conquered but not
ceded. Napoleon desired greatly to add to them also the prin-
cipalities of Anhalt, Lippe and Waldeck. But, taking advan-
tage of the real embarrassment in which he found himself after
the battle of Pultusk, which, however, he would not acknowl-
edge, I had had these principalities admitted as well as those
of Reuss and Schwarzburg into the Confederation of the
Rhine, and he did not yet dare to attempt, as he did later, any-
thing against the princes he had admitted to that body. The
treaty of Tilsit having been signed and ratified, we could, at
last, return to France.

The excitement which I had been subjected to for nearly a
year, made me feel inexpressibly happy and comfortable, while
passing through Dresden, where I spent several days. The
noble and quiet manners of the Court of Saxony, the public and
private virtues of King Frederick Augustus,^" the benevolence
and sincerity which appeared everywhere, made me preserve a
special remembrance of this stay at Dresden.

Napoleon, on arriving in Paris, created for Marshal Berthier
the post of vice-constable, and for myself that of vice-grand-
elector. These posts were honorable and lucrative sinecures ;
I then left the Cabinet as I had intended to do.

^^ Frederick Augustus I, born in 1758, to Napoleon until 1813. The Congress

Elector of Saxony at the death of his of Vienna gave him back a portion of

brother in 1763. Married Amelia, Prin- his possessions. He died in 1827, leav-

cess of Zwei-Brucken. He took the title in? the throne to his elder brother, An-

of King in 1806, and remained faithful toine.

346

TALLEYRAND

During all the time I had charge of the management of for-
eign affairs, I served Napoleon with fidelity and zeal. As to
the Emperor, he adhered, for a long time, to the views which
I considered it a duty to suggest to him. Those views were
based upon these two considerations : To establish for France
monarchical institutions which should secure the prerogatives
of the Crown and the authority of the sovereign, by keeping
them within just limits ; to spare Europe in order that the
powers might pardon France her achievements and glory. In
1807, Napoleon had already for a long time past, it must be
owned, kept away from the path on which I had done my best
to keep him, but I had been unable, until the occasion which
now presented itself^ to give up the nominal direction of for-
eign affairs. It was not so easy as one might suppose to resign
a post, the duties of which brought its occupant in daily contact
with him.

Hardly returned from Tilsit, Napoleon devoted all his atten-
tion to the execution of his designs on Spain. The intrigue of
this undertaking is so involved that I have thought it necessary
to explain it separately. I must only say here that the Em-
peror, clinging to the belief that I approved his projects, chose
precisely my estate of Valengay, to become the prison of Ferdi-
nand VII, his brother, and their uncle. But neither these
princes nor the public were deceived by this. He succeeded
no more in making people believe that, in this, I was his ac-
complice, than he did in the conquest of Spain.

When the Emperor Alexander and he had separated at
Tilsit, they promised to see each other again soon. This was a
promise Napoleon had no desire to keep, at least unless the
state of his affairs made it necessary. But when General
Junot had been driven from Portugal by the English,^ when
General Dupont was forced to capitulate at Baylen,^ and when
a general insurrection in Spain, gave prospects of a resistance

^ General Andoche Junot, Due d'Ab-
rantes, had been placed at the head
of the Army of Portugal. At first suc-
cessful (1807), he was, on August 21,
1808, defeated at Vimeiro by the Anglo-
Portuguese army, and forced to sign at
Cintra a capitulation, by the terms of
which he was to evacuate Portugal.

' General Pierre Dupont de I'Etang
Ci765-i83()) had been, in 1808, placed at
the head of the Andalusian army. On
July 22, being attacked by superior

forces commanded by the Spanish gen-
eral, Castanos, he capitulated in the
open field near Baylen. Eight thousand
French soldiers were disarmed and sent
to the rocks of Cabrera (Balearic
Islands), where they died for the most
part from sickness and misery. General
Dupont, having returned to France, was
tried by a court-martial, and sentenced
to imprisonment for life. He came out
of prison in iSi.i, and was minister of
war under the first restoration.

FROM CONSUL TO EMPEROR 347

which might be of long duration, he began to fear that Austria
might profit by these circumstances, and felt the need of
making more sure of Russia's intentions. He then grew anx-
ious to see the Emperor Alexander once more, and invited him
to an interview to take place at Erfurt.^ Although already
very cold with me, he wished me to accompany him; he was
persuaded that I might prove useful to him and that sufficed
him. The numerous and piquant incidents of this interview
form an episode by themselves : I have thought it advisable to
make a separate chapter of them. The intention of Napoleon,
however, must find a place here. His purpose was to induce
the Emperor Alexander to make a special alliance with him
against Austria. That which he had concluded at Tilsit, al-
though general, was particularly directed against England. If
he had succeeded at Erfurt, he would, under some pretext easily
invented, have sought a quarrel with Austria, and after a few
military successes he would have tried to do with it as he had
done with Prussia.

The complete co-operation of Russia would have thoroughly
enabled him to reach his goal. Having a very small opinion of
the genius and self-will of the Emperor Alexander, he hoped to
succeed. His intention was to intimidate the Czar at first, and
then to arouse both his vanity and his ambition ; and, indeed,
it was to be feared that on these three points, the Emperor of
Russia might prove only too accessible. But the star of Austria
willed that ]\I. de Caulaincourt,* who has always been persist-
ently misjudged, should inspire the Emperor of Austria with
confidence, and not cause the Emperor Alexander to lose that
he placed in me. I had seen him several times in private at
Tilsit. I saw him nearly every day at Erfurt. Our conversa-
tions were at first of a general turn concerning the common in-
terests existing between the great powers of Europe ; the con-
ditions on which the ties which it was important to preserve
between them, were to be broken ; the equilibrium of Europe in
general ; the probable consequences of its destruction ; then,
gradually our conversations turned more particularly to the

' A city of the Kingdom of Saxony general of division, grand equerry and

(to-day annexed to Prussia) on the Due de Vicence (Vicenza). He went

Gera. to Russia as ambassador in 1807, was

* Louis de Caulaincourt, born in 1773 appointed minister of foreign affairs in

at Caulaincourt (Aisne), of noble par- 1813, and died in 1827.
entage. Under the empire he became

348 TALLEYRAND

States where existence was necessary for this equiUbrium, es-
pecially to Austria. These conversations put the Emperor in
such a state of mind that the coaxing, the persuasion, and the
threats of Xapoleon were a dead loss ; and that, before quit-
ting Erfurt, the Emperor Alexander wrote in his own hand to
the Emperor of Austria to reassure him with regard to the
fears, which the Erfurt interview had caused him. It was the
last service I was able to render Europe, as long as Napoleon
continued to reign, and this service, in my opinion, I was also
rendering to himself personally.

After having given many fetes and made a kind of treaty
essentially different from that he had in view on coming to
Erfurt, the Emperor returned to Paris, and M. de Champagny,^
thereafter had the sole direction of the department of foreign
affairs. As for me, I resumed the insignificant life of a grand
dignitary.

At all hazards, I did what was in my power to obtain the
confidence of the Emperor Alexander, and I succeeded, suffi-
ciently well for him to send to me, as soon as his first trouble
broke out with France, Count de Nesselrode, councillor to the
Russian embassy in Paris, who, on entering my room, said to
me, " I have just come from St. Petersburg; I hold an official
situation with Prince Kourakin, although it is really to you
that I am accredited. I am keeping up a private correspond-
ence with the Emperor, and now bring you one of his letters."

* Jean-Baptiste Nompere de Cham- cillor of state, ambassador at Vienna

pagny. Due de Cadore (1756-1834), for- (1801), and minister of the interior; in

mer deputy of the nobility to the 1807, he succeeded Talleyrand as min-

States-General, became, in 1800, coun- ister of foreign affairs.

LIFE AT THE COURT OF
BONAPARTE

atiamc tic iflemu^at

CLAIRE ELISABETH JEANNE GRAVIER DE VERGENNES,
COMTESSE DE REMUSAT

1780 — 1821

Claire Elisabeth Jeanne Gravier de Vergennes, Comtesse de Remusat,
was born at Paris in 1780, and died there in 1821. She was the grand-
niece of Vergennes, prime minister under Louis XVI ; a noted beauty of
the court of Napoleon I, an intimate friend of Josephine, a woman of rare
moral and intellectual endowments, and author ot an Essai sicr I'Edic-
catioti des Fcmnies, and of the Meuioires de Madame de Remusat.
Notwithstanding a life of dignity and honor spent in the heart of the
corrupt and vulgar court of Napoleon I, and in which she became a
semi-historical figure, she is best known by her posthumous memoirs,
which expose the baseness of Bonaparte's character by an analytical nar-
rative of his home life. Partisans of the Emperor throw doubts on the
disinterestedness of her judgment. But the work affords its own evi-
dences, since the memoirs are an exact record of the life of the author
and of the history of the early years of the present century. They show
us what change the establishment of the empire effected at the court,
and how by degrees the prestige of Napoleon declined through misuse
of his great gifts, his power, and his chances. The first series of mem-
oirs written by Madame de Remusat were destroyed in 1815 by herself,
and it was not until 1818 that she began to rewrite her recollections and
experiences. Madame de Remusat left memoranda to the effect that her
motive in recomposing her memoirs was neither ambition to go down to
posterity as an author nor to be an apologist for an era full of tumult,
but the desire that the truth concerning the private and pu])lic life of one
of the strangest characters in history should be known. She was well
fitted for the task. Her husband used to say of Madame de Remusat
that he knew of no one who excelled her in the "talent for being tnae."
Few memoir writers, indeed, surpass her in sincerity, honesty, and intelli-
gence of comment, and it is refreshing to find in one who was practically
a dependent at an autocrat's court such clear-sightedness, such genuine
patriotism, and such liberality of thought combined with strict adherence
to right.

350

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE

THERE appeared in the " Moniteur," after the various ar-
rests of which I have spoken, articles from the " Morn-
ing Chronicle " which alleged that the death of Bona-
parte and the restoration of Louis XVIII were next in order.
It was said also that late arrivals from London declared that
they speculated on the exchange upon this issue, and that
Georges, Pichegru, and Moreau were named. In the same
" Moniteur " was inserted also a letter to Bonaparte from an
Englishman, who addressed him as Monsieur le Consul. This
letter recommended to him for his particular benefit a pamphlet
of Cromwell's time, which set out to prove that it was im-
possible to assassinate personages like Cromwell and himself,
because it was no crime to kill a dangerous animal or a tyrant.
" To kill, consequently, is not to assassinate," said the pam-
phlet ; " the difference is great."

In the meantime in France, the bishops were sending
mandates, and from every city and the armies addresses were
coming in complimenting the First Consul and congratulating
France upon her escape from danger. These documents were
carefully inserted in the " Moniteur."

Finally, on the twenty-ninth of March, Georges Cadoudal
was arrested on the Place de I'Odeon. He was in a cab, and,
seeing that he was pursued, whipped up his horse, A con-
stable placed himself boldly at the horse's head and was killed
immediately by a shot from the pistol which Georges drew
upon him.

But a crowd having gathered, the cab was stopped and
Georges taken. They found upon him from 60,000 to 80,000
francs in notes, which were given to the widow of 'the man
whom he had killed. According to the newspapers, he con-
fessed on the spot that he had come to France to kill Bonaparte,

351

352 R^MUSAT

but as I recall it, it was said at the time that Georges, who
manifested during the proceedings extreme firmness and great
devotion to the house of Bourbon, denied persistently the
scheme of assassination, and declared that his plan had been to
attack the Consul's carriage and to abduct him without doing
him any harm.

At this same period the King of England fell seriously ill.
Our Government counted upon his death bringing about Mr.
Pitt's retirement from the ministry.

On the twenty-first of March a paragraph of this sort ap-
peared in the " Moniteur " : " The Prince of Conde has given
out a circular recalling the emigres and bidding them assemble
on the Rhine. A prince of the house of Bourbon is stationed
on the frontier for this purpose."

Next they published secret correspondence of which they
had gotten hold, of a man named Drake, accredited minister
of England to Bavaria, which proved that the English Gov-
ernment was neglecting no means of stirring up trouble in
France. M. de Talleyrand was ordered to send copies of this
correspondence to every member of the diplomatic corps, who
testified to their indignation by means of letters, which were
all inserted in the " Moniteur."

We were nearing Holy Week. Passion Sunday, March i8,
my week of attendance upon Madame Bonaparte began. I
presented myself at the Tuileries at daybreak to attend mass,
which was celebrated at that season with pomp. After mass,
Madame Bonaparte always found a numerous court in the
salon, and remained there for some time, speaking to this and
that person.

Madame Bonaparte, on returning to her own apartments,
announced to me that we were to pass the week at Malmaison.
" I am charmed with it," she added ; " Paris frightens me at
present." Some hours later we departed. Bonaparte was in
his private carriage, Madam.e Bonaparte alone with me in hers.
During part of the journey I observed that she was silent and
very sad, and expressed anxiety about it. She seemed loath
to answer, but finally said to me : " I am going to confide
to you a great secret. This morning Bonaparte informed me
that he had sent M. de Caulaincourt to our frontier to arrest
the Due d'Enghien. They are going to bring him here."

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 353

" Ah ! moil Dim, madame ! " I cried. " What do they wish
to do with him? Surely he will bring him to trial."

These utterances gave me the greatest sensation of fear,
I believe, that I have ever felt in my life. Madame Bonaparte
believed I was going to faint, and lowered all the windows.
" I have done all I could," she continued, " to obtain from him
a promise that the prince should not die, but I fear greatly
that his resolution is taken." " What ! Do you think he will
put him to death?" "I fear so." At these words my tears
got the better of me, and in my emotion I made haste to put
before her all the disastrous results of an event like this : This
defilement of royal blood which will satisfy only the Jacobins ;
the peculiar interest which this prince above all others inspires ;
the fair name of Conde ; the general panic ; the passionate
hatreds that will be revived, etc. I touched upon every ques-
tion of which Madame Bonaparte had faced only one side.
The idea of murder was what had most struck her. I suc-
ceeded in frightening her, and she promised to do everything
to bring about a change in this fatal affair.

We arrived at Malmaison both dejected. I sought refuge
in my chamber, where I wept bitterly. My whole soul was
stirred. I loved and admired Bonaparte ; I believed him called
by an invincible power to the highest destinies. I let my
youthful imagination become enthusiastic over him. Of a
sudden the veil which covered my eyes was rent apart, and
by the experience of that moment I comprehended only too
well the impression this event was going to produce.

There was at Malmaison no one to whom I could fully dis-
close my feelings. My husband was of no service to me ; I
had left him in Paris. I had to restrain myself and appear
again with a tranquil face, for Madame Bonaparte had em-
phatically forbidden me to let anything escape me which should
indicate that she had spoken to me of the matter.

When I descended to the salon about six o'clock, I found
the First Consul there, playing chess, as it seemed to me, both
happy and calm. Looking at his serene countenance affected
me ill ; since two o'clock in thinking of him my spirit had
been so much disturbed that I could not recover again the
impression which his presence ordinarily produced upon me.
It seemed to me that I should find him changed. Some offi-
23

354 R^MUSAT

cers were dining with him. Nothing unusual occurred, and
after dinner with his secretaries he retired to his study to work.
That evening when I left Madame Bonaparte she again prom-
ised me to renew her entreaties, and she kept her word, but
to little purpose.

The next morning I joined her as early as possible : she
was completely disheartened. Bonaparte had repulsed her at
every point. " Women should have nothing to do with affairs
of this sort. His policy demanded this coup d'etat. He re-
tained," he declared, " the right to show mercy afterward.
He was obliged to choose between this decisive action and a
long train of conspiracies needing punishment every day. Im-
punity encouraged factions ; he would be obliged to persecute,
to exile, to condemn constantly, to retract what he had already
done for the emigres, to put himself in the hands of the
Jacobins. The royalists had already more than once imperilled
him with the revolutionary party. This act would set him
right with everybody. Beside, it must be borne in mind, the
Due d'Enghien was concerned in the conspiracy of Georges ;
he had but just brought trouble to France ; he contributed to
the revenge of the English. Furthermore, his military repute
might in future excite the army. If he were dead our soldiers
would break entirely with the Bourbons. In politics, a death
which was certain to bring peace was no crime. The orders
were given ; it was too late to retract."

In this conference Madame Bonaparte pointed out to her
husband that his choice of M. de Caulaincourt, whose family
had formerly been attached to the house of Conde, would
increase the hatefulness of the deed. " I did not know it,"
Bonaparte answered; "but what does it matter? If Caulain-
court is compromised, that is no great evil ; he will serve me
the better for it. The opposition will pardon hereafter his
being a gentleman." He added, beside, that M. de Caulain-
court was not wholly informed of his plans, and thought the
Due d'Enghien would remain here in prison.

My courage sank at every word. My friendship for M. de
Caulaincourt increased my grief at what I heard. It seemed
to me that he must refuse the mission with which he was
charged.

The day passed sadly. I remember that Madame Bona-

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE

355

parte, who loved trees and flowers, busied herself in the fore-
noon in superintending the transplanting of a cypress to a
newly laid out part of her garden. She even threw some
shovelfuls of earth upon the tree, so that she could say she had
planted it with her own hands. '' Mon Dieu, madame," I said
to her while watching her, " truly this is a tree suited to such
a day." Since that time I have never passed a cypress without
heaviness of heart.

My deep emotion disturbed Madame Bonaparte. Buoyant
and variable, and confiding much in the superiority of Bona-
parte's views, she feared excessively painful and prolonged
sensations. Her emotions were lively but transient. Con-
vinced that the death of the Due d'Enghien was determined
upon, she had wished to avoid useless regrets. I did not per-
mit this, but employed most of the day in constantly plaguing
her. She listened to me sweetly but with despondency, for
she knew Bonaparte better than I. In tears I spoke to her,
entreating her not to be rebuffed ; and as I was not without
influence with her, I succeeded in persuading her to make
another attempt.

" Mention me, if needs be, to the First Consul," I said to her.
" I, indeed, am insignificant, but he can judge what effect this
event will produce by the impression it makes upon me ; for
I am more attached to him than many others. I demand
nothing better than to find excuses for him, but can find none
for what he is now about to do."

We saw little of Bonaparte on that second day ; the chief
judge, the commissioner of police, and Murat came and had
long audiences with him. I found everywhere dismal faces.
I stayed up the greater part of the night, and when I slept
my dreams were frightful.

I believed I heard continual moving about in the chateau,
and that violence was attempting against us. I felt oppressed
of a sudden by a desire to throw myself at the feet of Bonaparte
and entreat him to consider his own fame, for I judged that his
glory was then unstained, and I wept over it in good faith.
That night will never be effaced from my memory.

Tuesday morning Madame Bonaparte said to me : " All is
useless ; the Due d'Enghien arrives this evening. He will
be taken to Vincennes and tried to-night. Murat has the

356 R^MUSAT

matter in charge. He is odious; it is he who urges Bonaparte.
He asserts that they will take his clemency for weakness and
that the Jacobins will be furious. There is one faction which
takes it amiss that they have had no regard for the former
glory of Moreau, and will demand why a Bourbon is spared.
And Bonaparte has forbidden me to say any more about it.
Next he spoke to me of you. I have confessed to telling you
all. He had been struck by your sadness ; try and control
yourself."

I raised my head then : " Oh, let him think of me what he
will. It matters little to me, madame, I assure you ; and if he
asks me why I weep, I will say I weep for him." And speak-
ing thus, I wept in earnest.

Madame Bonaparte was frightened at the condition in which
she saw me. The strong emotions of the soul were almost
unknown to her, and when by reassuring me she sought to
calm me I could only say : " Ah, madame, you do not under-
stand ! " She assured me that after this event Bonaparte would
act as he had formerly. Alas, it was not the future that dis-
turbed me ; I did not doubt his power over himself and over
others, but I felt a sort of inward anguish which was entirely
selfish.

At dinner time, it was necessary to descend with composed
demeanor. Mine was agitated. Bonaparte was playing chess
again ; he had taken a fancy to the game. As soon as he saw
me he called me to him, asking my advice. I was not in a con-
dition fit to articulate four words. He spoke to me in a tone
of sweetness and sympathy, which put the finishing touch to
my agitation. When dinner was served he had me placed
near him, and questioned me upon a multitude of things con-
cerning my family. He seemed to make it a point to divert
me and keep me from thinking.

Little Napoleon had been sent from Paris ; they ha-d placed
him in the middle of the table, and his uncle seemed much
amused to see the child handle all the dishes and upset every-
thing around him. After dinner he sat on the floor playing
with the child and afifected a gayety which seemed to me
forced. Madame Bonaparte, who feared lest he would be
irritated at what she had said to him about me, looked at me
smiling sweetly and seemed to say : " He is not so bad, you

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE

357

see ; and we can console you." As for me, I knew not what
to think about it. At times I beUeved it was all a bad dream.
Undoubtedly I had a bewildered air, for Bonaparte suddenly
looked at me steadily and said : '' Why are you wearing no
rouge ? You are very pale." I answered that I had forgotten
to put it on. " What ? " he burst out ; " a woman who for-
gets her rouge ? " And then he burst out laughing. Turning
to his wife, "You will never come to that, eh, Josephine?"
Then he concluded : " Women have two things which they
make great use of — rouge and tears." All these utterances
served to baffle me in my purpose, and I wept inwardly.

General Bonaparte has neither taste nor moderation in his
gayety. At such times he assumes ways that smack of the
garrison. He spent some little time in trifling with his wife
with more freedom than propriety, and then called me to make
one at a game of chess. He seldom played well, not liking
to conform to the moves. I let him do as he pleased : everyone
was silent when he began to hum a tune. Suddenly some lines
of poetry came to him ; he spoke in an undertone : " Let us
be friends, Cinna," and then the lines of Guzman in " Alzire ":
" Mine when thy arm is raised against me." ^

I could not help raising my head and looking at him ; he
smiled and continued. In truth, I believed at that moment
that he had deceived his wife and everybody else and was pre-
paring a grand scene of mercy. This idea which I clung to
strongly calmed me ; my imagination was very young indeed
then, and besides I had such need to hope ! " You like the
verses? " Bonaparte said to me, and I desired greatly to answer,
" Especially when they are put into practice " ; but I did not
dare.-

We continued our game, and more and more I trusted to

1 Here are the lines:
" You know the difference in the gods

we serve.
Thy gods have counselled murder and
revenge,
Mine when thy arm is raised against
me
Command that I should pity and for-
give."
^ On the day after I wrote this a book
recently issued, called the " Private
Memoirs of Lucien Bonaparte," was
loaned me. It was probably issued by
some secretary of Lucien. It contained
some doubtful statements. There are

notes at the end, they say by a trustwor-
thy person. I hit upon this one, which
seems curious. Lucien heard of the
death of the Due d'Enghien from Gen-
eral Hullin, a relative of Madame Jou-
berthon, who arrived at his house some
hours afterward with the air of a man
in despair. The military council had
been assured that the First Consul
wished only to establish his authority
and intended to pardon the prince.
They had even quoted these lines from
" Alzire " to some of the members:

" You know the difference in the gods
we serve," etc.

358 REMUSAT

his gayety. We were still playing when the noise of a carriage
was heard. General Hullin was announced. The First Con-
sul pushed away the table forcibly and rose, and going into
the passage next the salon, he remained the rest of the evening
with Murat, Hullin, and Savary.

He did not reappear, and I returned to my room more
tranquil. I could not persuade myself that Bonaparte had
not been moved at the thought of having such a victim in
his power. I wished that the prince would demand to see
him ; and in fact he did so, making use of these words : " If
the First Consul consented to see me he would render me
justice and understand that I have done my duty." Perhaps,
I said to myself, he will go himself to Vincennes ; he will
grant him a glorious pardon. What good without this of re-
calling the lines of Guzman?

That night — that terrible night — passed. Early in the morn-
ing I went down to the salon, where I found Savary alone,
exceedingly pale, and, to do him justice, agitated in demeanor.
His lips trembled as he spoke to me, though he said nothing
of importance. I asked him no questions. To persons of
his kind questions are always fruitless. They say what they
wish to say without being asked ; but never answer.

Madame Bonaparte entered the salon. She looked at me
sadly and sat down while speaking to Savary. " Ah, well ; is it
over? " " Yes, madame," he answered. " He died this morn-
ing, and I was forced to consent with good grace." I stood
dumbfounded.

Madame Bonaparte asked for details. They have been
learned since. They led the prince into one of the fosses of
the chateau. When someone ofifered him a handkerchief,
he refused it with dignity and addressed the gendarme : " You
are a Frenchman," he said to him. " You will at least render
me the service of showing respect for me." He left in his care
a ring and a lock of hair, and a letter for Madame de Rohan.
Savary showed them all to Madame Bonaparte. The letter
was sincere, short, and affectionate. I know not whether the
Jast wishes of the unhappy prince were carried out.

" After his death," Savary said, " they gave the gendarmes
permission to take his clothes, his watch, and the money he
had with him. No one would touch them. Say what you v.-ill,

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 359

one cannot see such a man die as one would many others. I
know that I recovered my composure with difficulty."

After a little, Eugene de Beauharnais appeared — a man too
young to have a memory, who saw in the Due d'Enghien
only a conspirator against the life of his master the general,
whose name I will not write. He praised this act so much
that Madame Bonaparte, who was always a little frightened
when anyone spoke loudly or strongly, believed that she
ought to make apology for her sadness in uttering this very
inappropriate sentiment : " I am a woman, and I confess that
this has given me desire to weep."

In the forenoon a crowd of company came, consuls, minis-
ters, Louis Bonaparte and his wife. The first wrapped in
a silence that seemed disapprobatory, Madame Louis, fright-
ened, not daring to feel, and, as it were, asking what she
ought to think. Women above all were absolutely subdued
by the magic power of the sacred word of Bonaparte, " my
policy." It was with this word that he stifled thoughts, opin-
ions, and even impressions, and when he uttered it, scarcely
a person in the palace, especially a woman, would be bold
enough to ask him what he meant.

My husband also came in the morning. His presence allevi-
ated the terrible oppression that stifled me. Like me, he was
dejected and troubled. How grateful I am to him for not
thinking of giving the least hint that I must appear composed
on this occasion ! We understood each other in all our trials.
He told me that in Paris there was general revolt and that the
chiefs of the Jacobin party said, " He belongs to us." He
added these words, which I have often recalled since : " There
the Consul has entered upon a course by which, in order to
efface the memory of this, he will be obliged to forsake con-
servative ways and divert us with the unusual." He said also
to Madame Bonaparte : " There remains this important ad-
vice for you to give the First Consul : he must not lose a
moment before conciliating public opinion, which moves
quickly in Paris. It will be necessary at least that he prove
this thing was in no way the result of a growing disposition
to cruelty, but of a plan, the justice of which it is not my place
to determine, but which must have rendered him very cau-
tious."

360

REMUSAT

Madame Bonaparte valued this advice. She repeated it
to her husband, who Hstened wilhngly and answered with
these two words : " 'Tis just."

Joining her before dinner, I found her in the hall with
her daughter and M. de Caulaincourt, who had just arrived.
He had superintended the arrest of the prince, but had not
accompanied him. I drew back as soon as I saw him. " And
you," he said to me aloud, " you too are going to detest me ?
And yet I am only unfortunate. Yes, very unfortunate. As
a reward for my devotion, the Consul has brought shame
upon me. I have been infamously deceived, and it is thus
I am ruined." He wept as he spoke, and I pitied him.

Madame Bonaparte assured me that he had spoken in the
same tone to the First Consul, and I observed that for a long
time he preserved an angry and severe mien toward him.
The First Consul made advances and he repulsed them. He
paraded his schemes, his policy before him, but he found him
cold and inflexible. Brilliant amends were olTered him, and
at first were refused. Ought they not perhaps to have been
always rejected?

Meanwhile public opinion turned against M. de Caulain-
court. Among certain people it spared the master to crush
the aide-de-camp. This capricious disapproval angered him.
He might have bowed before independent censure, which was
at least likely to be shared ; but when he said that they were
determined to exhaust their reproaches upon him in order to
still retain the right to make much of the true culprit, he
conceived a supreme contempt for men and concluded to force
them to silence by placing himself where his power would
aid them. His ambition and Bonaparte made good this in-
clination.

" Do not be foolish," the latter said to him. " If you bow
before the blows they strike at you you will be beaten to
death. They will not be wanting in gratitude for your tardy
opposition to my wishes, and they will censure you the more,
having no fear of you." By dint of recurring to arguments
such as these and by sparing no means of reconciling, flatter-
ing, and winning over M. de Caulaincourt, Bonaparte suc-
ceeded in allaying his very genuine resentment, and little by
little raised him to great offices near his person. One can cen-

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE

361

sure more or less the weakness M. de Caulaincourt showed in
pardoning the indehble stain the First Consul had graved
upon his brow, but one must do him this justice that, close
to Bonaparte as he was, he was never blinded, never a low
courtier, and that he was always among the small number of
his servants who neglected no chance to tell him the truth. ^

Before dinner, Madame Bonaparte and her daughter begged
me to maintain the best countenance possible. The former
told me that in the forenoon her husband asked what effect
the terrible news had produced on me, and that when she
answered that I had wept, he said to her : " That is natural.
She plies her woman's trade. You others — you know nothing
of my affairs. But everything will blow over and they will
see that I have not made a mistake."

At last the dinner hour arrived. With the ordinary at-
tendance of the week, there were beside M. and Madame
Louis Bonaparte, Eugene de Beauharnais, M. de Caulaincourt,
and General Hullin.* The sight of this man annoyed me.
His face wore its usual expression — one of extreme impassi-
bility.^ In fact, I believe he thought he had done neither a
wicked deed nor an act of devotion in presiding over the
military tribunal which condemned the prince. Since then
he has behaved tolerably. Bonaparte rewarded with honors
and with money the hateful service for which he is indebted
to him. But there came a time when he said on seeing Hullin :
" His presence annoys me. I dislike what it brings back
to me."

The Consul came from his study to table. He affected
no gayety to-day ; on the contrary, as long as the meal lasted
he was plunged in deep thought. We all kept silence. Just
as we were rising from the table, the Consul in response to
his own thoughts suddenly uttered these words in a harsh.

3 M. de Caulaincourt held the same
opinions all his life, and judged very
severely the politics and character of
those employed in carrying out dan-
gerous schemes. My father had it from
M. Mounier, son of the celebrated mem-
ber of the revolutionary assemblies
with whom he was very intimate in his
youth, that in the campaign of 1S13 M.
de Caulaincourt, then Due de Vicence,
accompanying the Emperor with part of
his staff and household, sav/ a shell
plough the earth at the side of Napo-
leon. He pushed his horse between the

Emperor and the shell and protected
him, as far as it was in him, from
the splinters, which happily hurt no
one. That evening, M. Mounier, sup-
ping at headquarters, spoke to him of
this act of devotion by which he had
so plainly risked his own life to save
his master's. " It is true," responded
the Due de Vicence, " and yet, if that
man dies on the throne, I will not be-
lieve there is a God in heaven."

■* Then commandant at Paris.

^ I have been assured since that he
was deeply affected.

362 REMUSAT

dn' voice : " At any rate they will see of what we are capable,
and, I hope, they will hereafter leave us in peace." He passed
into the salon and chatted a little while with his wife in a low
tone, looking at me tAvo or three times without anger. I stood
apart, dejected, sick, and neither wishing nor able to say a
word.

After a while Joseph Bonaparte and Madame Bacciochi *
arrived, accompanied by M. de Fontanes." Lucien was then
at variance with his brother on account of the marriage he
had contracted with Madame Jouberthon. He did not appear
at the First Consul's, and was preparing to leave France. In
the evening Murat, the commissioner of police Dubois, state
councillors, and others came in. The faces of the newcomers
were composed. At first the conversation was unimportant,
intermittent, and dull. The women sat in utter silence ; the
men standing in a semicircle. Bonaparte paced from one
comer of the salon to the other. He commenced finally a
sort of dissertation, partly literar}-. partly historical, with M.
de Fontanes. Some historical names having been mentioned,
chance was given him to develop his opinions of some of
our Kings and of the greatest leaders of history.

I noticed from that day on that his natural bent carried him
to dethronements of any kind whatsoever, even to admiration
of them. He exalted Charlemagne, but held that France had
always declined under the Valois. He depreciated the great-
ness of Henrv- IV. " He lacked gravity," he said. '' It is an
affectation that a sovereign is to avoid only simplicity. What
does he want? To remind those who surround him that he
is a man like the others ? What nonsense ! As soon as a man
is King he stands apart from all — and I have always found in
Alexander's idea of making himself descend from a god,
the true political instinct." He added that Louis XIV had
known the French better than Henry IV, but made haste to
represent him as controlled by the priests and an old woman,
and expressed some rather vulgar opinions on the subject.
From this he turned his thoughts to some general of Louis
XIV and to militar}- science in general.

• M. Bacciochi was a colonel of dra- ' M. de Fontanes had at this rime

goons, absolutely a stranger to public been elected president of the legisla-

affairs. He was passionately fond of tive body, ana later president for life,
the violin, and played all day.

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 363

" Militan- science," he said, " consists, in the first place, in
calculating to a nicety every chance and then in endeavoring
to exactly, almost mathematically, make allowance for risks.
It is upon this point that a general must not deceive himself,
a decimal more or less may change all. Xow this distribution
of science and risk can only find place in a head of genius, for
that is necessary wherever there is creation, and surely the
greatest invention of the human spirit is that which gives evi-
dent existence to what apparently has none. Hazard remains
forever a mysten," to mediocre minds and only becomes a
reality to superior men. Turenne indeed thought but little
of it and cared only for method ; and I believe," he added,
smiling, " that I would have beaten him. Conde doubted it
more than he ; it was by impetuosity that he succeeded. Take
Prince Eugene ; he is a man whom I rate more highly. Henr}-
VI always put bravery before all else. He has given us only
combats and has never drawn up a line of battle. It is rather
for democracy's sake that they boast so much of Catinat. I
have, by my own reckoning, gained a victor)' in cases where
he was beaten. The philosophers have embellished his repu-
tation as they wished, and this has been so much the easier
since one can always say what one likes of mediocre men
carried to a certain eminence by circumstances which them-
selves have not created.

" To be a veritable great man of whatsoever class it may
be, one must really improvise a part of one's glon.' and to
show one's self greater than the event he has caused. For in-
stance, Csesar had on several occasions a weakness which puts
me in opposition to the praise which history gives him. M.
de Fontanes, your friends, the historians, are always objects
of suspicion. Your Tacitus himself makes nothing clear. He
judges certain results without pointing out what courses have
been pursued. He is, I believe, a skilful writer, but rarely a
statesman. He paints Xero for us as an execrable tyrant, and
then he says, almost at the same time that he tells us of the
pleasure Xero had in burning Rome, that the people loved
him much.

'■ All this is not clear. Believe me, we are a little duped by
our faith in writers who have fashioned histon.- for us to their
liking according to the natural bent of their minds. Do you

364 REMUSAT

know of whom I should Hke to read a well-written history?
Of the King of Prussia, of Frederick. I believe that he is one
of those men who have best known their trade in all its
branches. These ladies," he said, turning to us, " would not
be of my opinion and would say that it was dry and personal ;
but after all, is a statesman obliged to be sensitive? Is he
not a person wholly eccentric, aKvays alone, from one end of
the world to the other? His eyeglasses are his politics. He
must have regard only for this, that they neither magnify
nor minimize. While he observes affairs attentively, he must
be careful to pull uniformly the threads he has in his hands.
The chariot he drives is dragged by capricious horses. Con-
sider, then, whether he ought to waste his time in taking
thought of certain conventional emotions, however important
they are to men in general ? Can he consider the ties of blood,
the affections, the puerile demands of society? And in the
position he holds how acts detached from the whole, which are
censured whatever they may be, contribute to a great work
which everybody does not discern !

" One day they will end in the creation of an immense giant
which will be the admiration of posterity. Unhappy ones
that you are ! You withhold your commendation because
you fear lest the movement of this great machine may have
upon you the effect of Gulliver, who when he moved his legs
crushed the Lilliputians. Arouse yourselves, look into the
future, waken your imaginations and look into the past and
you will see that the great personages whom you have be-
lieved violent, cruel, or what not, are but politicians. They
know themselves, they judge themselves better than you,
and when they are really skilful they know how to make them-
selves masters of their passions, for they go so far as to cal-
culate their effects."

One can see from this kind of manifesto the nature of
Bonaparte's opinions, and just how one idea brought forth
another when he gave himself up to conversation. It happened
sometimes that he discoursed with less sequence because he
customarily tolerated interruptions well enough, but on this
particular day our spirits seemed frozen in his presence, and
no one dared to seize chances of getting his attention, how-
ever obvious it was that they offered themselves.

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 365

He had not ceased walking the floor during the hour he
was speaking thus. My memory has allowed to escape it
many of the other things he said. At last, suddenly interrupt-
ing the flow of his ideas, he commanded M. de Fontanes to
read extracts from Drake's correspondence, • of which I have
already spoken — extracts all of which related to the conspiracy.

When the reading was finished, he said : " There are proofs
that they cannot reject. That fellow wished to make disorder
in France and to kill the Revolution in my person. I must
defend and avenge her. I have shown of what it is capable.
The Due d'Enghien conspired like any other ; it has been neces-
sary to treat him like any other. Beside, all this was plotted
without precautions, without knowing the ground. Some ob-
scure correspondents, some credulous old women, have writ-
ten. They believed them. The Bourbons will never see any-
thing except through the bull's-eye, and are destined to per-
petual illusions. The Polignac did not doubt that every house
in Paris would be opened to receive them, and when they came
here, not a single noble was willing to welcome them. All
these fools would kill me whom they would not else overcome.
They would put in my place only the angry Jacobins. We
have passed the time for etiquette and the Bourbons do not
know how to dispense with it. If you see them return I
wager that it will be the first thing with which they concern
themselves. Ah ! it would have been different if one had seen
them like Henry IV upon the field of battle all covered with
blood and dust. But they cannot recover a kingdom with a
letter dated London and signed Louis. However, such a letter
inculpates imprudent men whom I am obliged to punish and
who rouse in me a sort of pity. I have shed blood ; I had to
do it. I will perhaps spill more, but without wrath and solely
because bloodletting enters into the treatment of the political
doctors. I am the man of the State ; I am the French Revo-
lution. I repeat it, I will uphold it."

After this last declaration Bonaparte dismissed us all. Each
one retired without daring to express his or her ideas, and
thus ended that fatal day.®

* The murder of the Due d'Enghien cations of historians and authors of

is an inexhaustible subject of con- memoirs contain nothing contradictory

troversy between the adversaries of the to this account, wliich has besides all

empire and the defenders of Napoleon. the marks of sincerity and truth. The

The latest and the most serious publi- First Consul had conceived and or-

;66

REMUSAT

The First Consul spared nothing to allay the discontent
which arose in consequence of this event. He perceived that
his conduct had brought into question the qualities of his
character, and he applied himself in his addresses to the council
of state and also among us all to show that policy alone and
not the violence of some sort of passion had caused the death
of the Due d'Enghien. He took great pains, as I have said,
with the genuine indignation which M. de Caulaincourt mani-
fested, and he showed toward me a sustained indulgence
which disquieted my thoughts anew. What power even of
persuasion a sovereign exercises over us ! Of whatever na-
ture they are, our sentiments, and truth to say our vanity also,
are susceptible to their slightest effort. I suffered much, but I
felt myself won little by little by his adroit course, and, like
Burrhus, I exclaimed, " Please God that this is the last of his
crimes."

Meanwhile we returned to Paris, and there I received new
and painful impressions from the condition in which I found
the people. I was obliged to hang my head before the things
I heard said and to confine myself to calming those who be-
lieved that that hateful deed was going to open a reign wliich
would hereafter often shed blood ; and, while it would be at
best very difficult to exaggerate the impressions which were
bound to be created by such a crime, yet the party spirit pushed
the thing so far that with my soul profoundly wounded I

dered the crime. Savary and the mili-
tary commission had executed it. M. de
Caulaincourt was the unconscious me-
diary. One can find all the details of
the proceeding in a book entitled " Le
Due d'Enghien d'apres les documents
historiques," by L. Constant (8vo,
Paris, 1869). There is, however, a pas-
sage from the " Memoires d'Outre-
tombe," by Chateaubriand, which it ap-
pears to me interesting to quote here,
although this book is by no means the
best of its author, and does not merit
implicit confidence. For all that he
gave in his resignation the day follow-
ing the crime, M. de Chateaubriand
gives him the credit justly due him.
" There was a deliberation of the coun-
cil concernirig the arrest of the Due
d'Enghien. Cambaceres, in his unpub-
lished memoirs, affirms, and I believe
him, that he was opposed to this arrest.
But upon recounting what he had said
he did not say what they replied to
hiiTi._ Moreover, the ' Memorial de Sainte
Helene ' denies the applications for
mercy to which Bonaparte would have

been exposed. The supposed scene of
Josephine demanding on her knees par-
don for the Due d'Enghien, clinging
to the skirt of her husband's coat, and
being dragged along by this inexorable
man is one of those melodramatic inven-
tions by which our makers of fables
compose nowadays credible history.
Josephine did not know on the evening
of March 19th that the Due d'Enghien
was to be tried. She knew only of
his arrest. She had promised Madame
de Remusat to intercede in behalf of
the prince. It was not till March 21st
that Bonaparte said to his wife, ' The
Due d'Enghien is shot.' The memoirs
of Madame de Remusat, which I read,
were extremely minute as to the private
life of the imperial court. The author-
ess burned them during the Hundred
Days, and afterward wrote them anew;
these then are no more than memories
reproduced from memories. The color-
ing is weakened, but Bonaparte is al-
ways shown frankly and judged with
impartiality."

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 367

was obliged sometimes to attempt a sort of justification, useless
enough indeed because it appealed to persons convinced al-
ready.

I had one very lively scene, among others with Madame

de , a cousin of Madame Bonaparte. She was one of

those persons who would on no account go of an evening to
the Tuileries, but who, having divided the palace into two very
distinct regions, believed that without acting contrary to their
own opinions or to their memories they were able to appear
in the morning on the ground floor with Madame Bonaparte
and to escape always any obligation to recognize the authority
which inhabited the first story.

She was a woman of spirit, lively, rather enthusiastic in her
opinions. I found her one day with Madame Bonaparte,
whom she had frightened by the vehemence of her indigna-
tion. She attacked me with the same fury and taunted us,
now the one and now the other, " of the chain which bound
us," she said, " to a veritable tyrant." She pushed the thing so
far that I tried to make her see that she was agitating her
cousin more than was necessary. But in her violence she fell
upon me, accused me of not feeling sufficiently the horror of
what had just happened. " As for me," she said to me, " all
my feelings are so revolted that if your Consul should enter
this room this instant, you would see me run, just as one runs
from a venomous animal." " Yes, madame," I said to her (I
did not then believe my words so prophetic), " refrain from talk
for which there will come to you a day of being sorry enough.
Weep with us, but reflect that some words uttered at moments
when one is strongly excited complicate often our future ac-
tions. To-day I have before you an appearance of modera-
tion which irritates you, yet perhaps my impressions will be
more enduring than yours."

In fact, some months later Madame de was lady of

honor of her cousin, who was then Empress.

Hume says somewhere that as soon as Cromwell had estab-
lished around him the semblance of royalty, he was immediately
approached by that class of great lords who think themselves
obliged to live in palaces as soon as the doors are reopened.
In the same way the First Consul, in taking the titles of the
authority which he in reality exercised, afforded the con-

368 REMUSAT

sciences of the old nobles a justification which their vanity ever
seized with eagerness ; for how could they resist the tempta-
tion to re-establish themselves in the rank which they thought
themselves made to occupy?

My comparison may seem trivial, but I believe it is just to
say that in the character of these great lords there is something
of the cat, which becomes attached to one house and remains
there, however its owner may change. At any rate, Bonaparte,
covered with the blood of the Due d'Enghien, but having the
name Emperor, obtained from the French nobility what he had
asked for in vain when he was Consul. Perhaps in respect to
this he was right when later he asserted to one of his minis-
ters that the murder was a crime but not a mistake. " For," he
said, " the results which I foresaw have all come to pass."

Yet, looking at things in a broader way, the consequences
of the deed were more extended than he thought. Undoubtedly
he succeeded in lessening the vivacity of some opinions because
multitudes of people leave off thinking when there is nothing
to hope ; but, as M. de Remusat said, as a result of the hatred
his crime had roused against him, to turn our thoughts from it,
he was obliged to resort to extraordinary doings which imposed
silence upon all memories ; and, more than this, he contracted
with us the obligation of constant success, for success alone
could justify him. If we consider what a tortuous and diffi-
cult course he was forced to pursue afterward, we will con-
clude that a noble and pure statemanship, based on the pros-
perity of humanity and the exercise of its rights, is still and is
always the most convenient path for a sovereign to follow.

By the death of the Due d'Enghien, Bonaparte succeeded
in compromising first us, later the French nobility, and finally
the whole nation and all Europe. They were linked, it is true,
to his fortunes ; that was a great point for him ; nevertheless,
by implicating us he lost his rights to devotion to which in
misfortune he might lay claim in vain, for how would he be able
to rely upon bonds, forged, it must be confessed, at the expense
of the noblest emotions of the soul! Alas! I judge by myself.
Reckoning from this time, I began to blush to my very eyes for
the chains I carried, and this hidden feeling, which I stifled at
intervals, with more or less success, later became a worldwide
sentiment.

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 369

On his return to Paris, the First Consul was immediately
struck by the magnitude of the effect he had produced. He
perceived that feelings die out a little less quickly than opin-
ions, and that faces now wore a different expression in his
presence. Tired of a memory, which if he had had his wish,
would have faded in a day, he thought the quickest way out
was to blunt impressions. He determined to appear in public,
although many persons advised him to wait a little. " But
it is necessary to age this event, at any price," he argued, " and
it will remain new as long as something is left that must be
gone through with. By changing none of our habits we will
force the public to minimize the importance of the affair." He
resolved to go to the opera. I accompanied Madame Bona-
parte, her carriage following directly behind her husband's.

Ordinarily it was his custom to rush up the staircase and
show himself in his box without waiting until she arrived ; but
to-night he waited for her in a little room near the stairs. She
was trembling and very pale. He looked at us, seeming to
question our eyes to know what we thought our reception would
be. Finally he advanced with the air of a man about to face
the fire of a battery. They welcomed him according to cus-
tom; it may be that his appearance produced its customary
effect, for the crowd does not change its habits in a minute ; it
may be that the police had taken precautions beforehand. I
feared greatly that he would not receive applause, but when I
saw that he did, I still felt a pang.

We remained only a few days in Paris, when the house-
hold removed to St. Cloud. I firmly believe that at this time
Bonaparte determined to put into execution his plan for roy-
alty. He knew well that he must awe Europe with a power
which could not be called into question, and now that by acts —
in his estimation merely vigorous — he had broken with all the
parties, he thought it would be easy for him to show plainly the
goal toward which he had progressed hitherto with more or
less caution. He began by obtaining from the lower House a
levy of 60,000 men — not that they were needed for the war
with England, for that could be waged only on the sea — but
because he was obliged to assume an imposing attitude at a
time when he was about to startle Europe with an altogether

novel incident.
24

370

REMUSAT

The civil code had just been completed, and was a work
which they say merited universal approbation. The debates
of the three houses resounded on this occasion with praises of
Bonaparte.

On the twenty-fourth of March, three days after the death
of the Due d'Enghien, M. Marcorelle made a motion which
was received with cheers. He proposed that a bust of the First
Consul should be placed in the Assembly room, " This public
acknowledgment of our love," he said, " will announce to Eu-
rope that he whom the daggers of certain vile assassins have
menaced is the object of our affection and our admiration."
A storm of applause met these words.

A few days later, Fourcey, councillor of state, made the ad-
dress for the government to close the session. Speaking of
the princes of the house of Bourbon, he called them " the
members of that unnatural family, which was willing to deluge
France with blood in order that they might reign over her."
They must be threatened with death, he added, if they wished
again to defile with their presence the soil of their native land.

Meanwhile the preliminary proceedings for the great trial
went on uninterruptedly. Every day either in Brittany or
Paris, royalists implicated in the conspiracy were arrested,
and Georges, Pichegru, and Moreau had been examined several
times. The first two, it was said, answered with firmness ;
Moreau seemed downcast, and his examination brought out
nothing clearly.

One morning General Pichegru was found strangled in
prison. There were those who attributed it to a desire on the
part of the authorities to get rid of a formidable enemy, A
man of his determination of character would be likely to make
violent speeches at the public trial, which would produce un-
favorable effects ; either exciting a faction in his favor, or per-
haps causing the discharge of Moreau, whose complicity they
were already finding it difficult to prove. These were the
motives they gave for the assassination. On the other hand,
the partisans of Bonaparte said, no one doubted that Pichegru
had come to Paris to incite rebellion ; he himself said so : his
confession must convince the incredulous ; and that his absence
would lessen the publicity which it would be desirable to give
to the whole case.

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 371

Several years afterward I asked M. de Talleyrand what he
thought about the death of Pichegru. " It came," he said,
" quite unexpectedly and just in time." But at the time M.
de Talleyrand was opposing Bonaparte, and neglected no
chance to cast at him all kinds of accusations. My statements
here are drawn entirely from later reports, for no one spoke
of these things at St. Cloud ; indeed we kept from ourselves
trace of thought about them.

It was about this time that Lucien Bonaparte left France,
after breaking entirely with his brother. His marriage with
Madame Jouberthon, which Bonaparte had been unable to pre-
vent, had separated them. They saw each other rarely, yet
the Consul, occupied as he was with his great projects, made
one last attempt, putting before his brother the approaching
elevation of the family, and speaking of the possibility of his
marrying the Queen of Etruria : ^ but Lucien was obdurate,
love was strongest and he refused all. There followed a vio-
lent scene, a complete rupture, and Lucien was exiled from
France.

On the occasion of the quarrel, I was in a position to see the
First Consul given over to one of those rare emotions of which
I have spoken before, when he seemed sincerely affected.

It was at St. Cloud late in the evening. Madame Bona-
parte, with M. de Remusat and myself, awaited anxiously the
outcome of this last conference between the brothers. She
did not like Lucien, but she dreaded the notoriety likely to
follow a family quarrel. About midnight Bonaparte came into
the salon with dejected mien. Throwing himself into an easy-
chair, he cried out in a deeply affected tone : " It is all over.
I have broken with Lucien and driven him from my presence."

Madame Bonaparte made some remonstrances. Rising, he
took his wife in his arms, gently laid her head on his shoulder,
and said, " You are a good woman to plead for him," and
gently smoothing with his hand her head, whose elegant coif-
fure contrasted strangely with the stern and gloomy counte-
nance near it, he told us the while how Lucien had resisted all

» Tuscany, after the treaty of Lune- Spain, succeeded him, reigning until

ville {1801)! had been converted into 1807, when the little kingdom was in-

the Kingdom of Etruria, and given to corporated in the empire, and in 1809

a son of the Duke of Parma. The diverted in favor of Madame Bacciochi,

King died in 1803; his widow, Maria who took the title of Grand Duchess of

Louisa, daughter of Charles IV, of Tuscany.

372 r£mUSAT

his entreaties, and how threats and friendly words were equally
in vain. " It is hard indeed," he added, " to find in my family
such opposition to its interests — its very great interests. I
shall be obliged to isolate myself, to rely upon myself alone.
Ah, well ! I can take care of myself and thou, Josephine, thou
shalt console me for everything."

This scene impressed itself rather sweetly on my memory.
Bonaparte had tears in his eyes as he spoke, and I was tempted
to thank him for showing himself capable of an emotion a little
like those of other men.

Very soon afterward his brother Louis subjected him to an-
other disappointment, which had no doubt great influence
upon Madame Bonaparte's fortunes. The Consul, determined
to ascend the throne of France and to establish the line of
descent, already broached at times the question of divorce.
However, at this time, perhaps because his affection for his
wife was still too great, perhaps because his relations with
Europe would not at that time permit him to hope for an
alliance which should strengthen him politically, he seemed
by no means inclined to break his marriage; appeared rather
to wish to adopt little Napoleon, who was at once his nephew
and his grandson.

As soon as he gave the family an inkling of his plan they
felt great anxiety. Joseph ventured to remonstrate with him,
pleading that he had not merited this deprivation of the right
to the crown he was about to acquire, as eldest brother, and de-
fending these alleged rights as though they had long since
been confirmed. Bonaparte, whom contradiction always irri-
tated, flew into a passion and seemed only the more decided
upon carrying out his plan. He told his wife in confidence
that the idea filled him with joy, and spoke to me of its fulfil-
ment as the end of his anxiety. Madame Louis assented to
it without showing any satisfaction : she had not the least am-
bition, and she could not help fearing that this advancement
would draw a danger upon her child's head.

One day the Consul, with the family about him, sat with
little Napoleon on his knee, playing with him and petting him.
He said to the child, " Do you know, little chap, that you run
the risk of being king some day ? " " And Achille ? " ^° Murat,

'" Achille was the oldest son of Murat.

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 373

who was present, said quickly. " Oh, Achille ! "" ansvsered
Bonaparte, " Achille will be a good soldier." This answer
wounded Madame Murat grievously. Bonaparte, however,
not appearing to notice it, and being vexed inwardly by the
opposition of his brothers, which he believed with reason was
excited mostly by her, continued speaking to his grandson.
" In any case, I advise you, my poor child, never accept the
meals your cousins offer you, if you wish to live."

One can conceive what terrible bitterness such conversation
would engender. Louis Bonaparte was immediately beset by all
the family, who contrived to remind him of the rumors which
were afloat when his son was born, and represented to him that
he ought by no means sacrifice his own rights in favor of a
child which belonged, moreover, partly to the Beauharnais.
Louis Bonaparte was not so entirely without ambition as
later people have believed him to be, and went, as Joseph did,
to ask the First Consul, his reason for demanding this sac-
rifice of his rights. " Why," he said, " must I yield to my son
my place in the succession? Have I merited disinheritance?
What will be my position when this child, having been adopted
by you, finds himself with a title superior to mine, independent
of me, ranking next to you, and looking upon me with fear,
perhaps even hating me ? No, I will never consent. Rather
than renounce my claim to the royalty you are about to ac-
quire for your family, and bow my head before my son, I will
leave France, taking Napoleon with me, and we shall see
whether you will dare publicly to rob the father of his child."

In spite of his power, the First Consul was unable to con-
quer this resistance ; he stormed in vain, and was obliged to
yield to avoid an unpleasant scandal, and indeed almost
through fear of ridicule — for ridiculous it would undoubtedly
be to see this family quarrel over a crown which France had
not yet really offered them. The trouble was smoothed over,
and Bonaparte was obliged to draft the line of succession and
reserve the right of adoption in the terms found in the decree
relative to his elevation to sovereignty.

These discussions put new life, one may believe, into the
hatred which already existed between the Bonapartes and
Beauharnais. The former looked upon them as the result of
one of Madame Bonaparte's intrigues. Louis forbade his wife

... REMUSAT

more severely than formerly any intimate association with her
mother. " If you follow your own advantage at the expense
of mine," he said to her harshly, " I declare that I shall know
how to make you repent it. I will separate you and your son, I
will shut you up in some secluded place from which no human
power can rescue you, and you will pay for your partiality to
your own family with a life of sorrow. And take care that
none of my threats reaches my brother's ears ; his power will
not save you from my wrath."

Madame Louis bent her head like a martyr before violence
of this kind. She was pregnant at this time, and grief and
anxiety affected her health, which was never the same after-
ward. She lost her fresh complexion, which was her one
charm. She never recovered again her natural gayety. Si-
lent, timorous, she concealed her suffering from her mother,
whose indiscretion and frivolity she feared ; nor did she wish
to irritate further the First Consul. Bonaparte, however, was
grateful to her for her reserve, for he knew his brother well,
and divined the pain she had to endure. From that time he
allowed to escape no opportunity to show the interest — I will
say more, the respect — the sweet and tactful conduct of his
sister-in-law inspired.

What I say does not agree with the opinion which, unhap-
pily, is generally held concerning this unfortunate woman;
but her vindictive sisters-in-law never ceased to brand her
with the most odious calumnies, and as she bore the name of
Bonaparte, the public, satisfying piecemeal the hatred which
the imperial despotism inspired in it by a kind of contempt,
which they distributed impartially among all who belonged to
the family, willingly accepted all the reports they skilfully
directed against Madame Louis. Her husband, his anger ag-
gravated by the griefs he himself had caused here, vowing that
it was not possible he was still loved after the tyranny he had
practised, jealous through pride, suspicious by nature, having
the soured disposition often resulting from ill-health, and being
excessively selfish, afflicted her with all the severities of which
the conjugal despot is capable.

She was surrounded by spies ; not a letter reached her un-
opened; tete-a-tetes even with women aroused suspicion; and
when she complained of this insulting rigor he said to her:

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE

375

" It is not possible that you still love me ; you are a woman,
and consequently trickery and malice are natural to you. You
are the daughter of a mother without morality ; you adhere to
a family which I detest. What good motives have I for keep-
ing watch over your actions ? "

Madame Louis, from whom I had these details a long time
afterward, had for her only resource the friendship of her
brother, whose conduct the Bonapartes, hov/ever jealous they
were, could not attack, for Eugene was simple, frank, and gay,
and sincere in all his ways, and as he showed no ambition,
held himself aloof from all intrigue, and performed conscien-
tiously the duties of his position, he disarmed without effort
slanders of which he was scarcely conscious, and remained a
stranger to what went on within the palace. His sister loved
him passionately, but, poor woman, could tell him her sorrows
only in the few short moments when the jealous surveillance
of Louis allowed them to be together.

Meanwhile, the First Consul had apparently made com-
plaints to the Elector of Bavaria of the correspondence which
M. Drake had carried on in France, and this Englishman,
having conceived some fears for his safety, suddenly disap-
peared, Sir Spencer Smith, English envoy to the Court of
Wiirtemberg, taking his departure at the same time.

In the House of Commons Lord Morpeth demanded of the
ministers the cause of Drake's conduct. The chancellor of
the exchequer answered that the government had given this
envoy no authority for such machinations, and that he would
explain further when the ambassador replied to the inquiries
he had made.

At this time the First Consul was having long conferences
with M. de Talleyrand. Talleyrand, whose sentiments were es-
sentially in favor of a monarchy, urged the Consul to assume
the title of King. He has confessed to me since then that
the title of Emperor frightened him even then ; he saw in it
something vague and large, which was precisely what flattered
the imagination of Bonaparte. " Indeed," said M. de Talley-
rand, " it combined the Roman Republic and Charlemagne
in a way that turned his head. One day I wished to have a
little fun hoaxing Berthier. Taking him aside, I said to him,
' You know what great plans are going forward ; go and urge

376

R^MUSAT

the First Consul to take the title of King — it will please him.'
Charmed at having occasion to speak with Bonaparte on an
agreeable subject, Berthier advanced at once to where he
was standing at the other end of the apartment. I stepped
back a little because I foresaw a tempest. Berthier began to
pay his little compliment, but at the word King Bonaparte's
eyes flashed, and puting his hand under Berthier's chin he
pushed him back plumb against the wall. ' Imbecile,' he said,
' you have been put up to this, to stir up my wrath ; another
time you will not accept such a commission.' Poor Berthier
looked at me, all confused as he was, and it was many a day be-
fore he forgave my little joke."

Finally on the thirtieth of April Curee, the tribune, who had
no doubt been told what to say, and whose good offices were
rewarded later on by a place in the Senate, made a resolution
in the Tribunate which proposed that the government of the
republic should be intrusted to an emperor, and that the
sovereignty should be hereditary in the family of Napoleon
Bonaparte. His speech was cleverly worded. He regarded
an hereditary government, he said, as a guarantee against
plots from outside, and in fact the title Emperor signified only
consul victorious. Almost all the tribunes entered their names
to speak. They named a committee of thirteen members.
Carnot alone had the courage to oppose boldly the proposal.
He declared that without any personal animosity, and with
every intention of obeying the Emperor if he were elected,
he voted against the empire for the same reason he had voted
against a consulate for life. He eulogized the American
government, and said that Bonaparte could then adopt the
treaty of Amiens. The abuses of despotism had results far
more dangerous to a nation than those of liberty, and before
smoothing the road for this despotism which, resting as it did
upon military success, was a very dangerous one, it would be
necessary to establish institutions which would tend to restrain
it. Notwithstanding the opposition of Carnot, division was
taken on the bill, and it was adopted.

On May 4th, a deputation from the Tribunate carried the
bill to the Senate, already quite prepared. The vice-president,
Francois de Neuf chateau, answered that the Senate had antici-
pated this vote and would take it into consideration. During

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 377

the same sitting they decided that they would carry the bill
and the answer of the vice-president to the First Consul. On
May 5th the Senate made an address to Bonaparte demanding
without any explanation a final act which would assure them
that peaceful destinies were in store for France. His response
appeared in the " Monitcur." " I invite you," he said, " to
make known to me your inmost thoughts. I desire that we shall
be able to say to the French people on the coming fourteenth
of July : ' The well-being you have acquired during the last
fifteen years, the liberty, the equality, and the glory, are a shel-
ter from every storm.' " In return the Senate voted unani-
mously for imperial government, " of which it is important to
the interests of the people of France that Napoleon Bonaparte
should take charge."

On May 8th addresses from the cities began to arrive at St.
Cloud. The city of Lyons sent hers first, and a little later
Paris and the other cities. There came, too, the vote of the
army, from Klein ^ first, and then from the camp at Mon-
treuil, under the command of General Ney.^ The other di-
visions of the army followed their example promptly. M. de
Fontanes spoke for the Corps Legislatif, at that time a dis-
tinct body, and all the members who were then in Paris came
together to vote like the Senate.

One would think that events of such importance would cause
great excitement at St. Cloud. I have already said what a
disappointment Louis Bonaparte's refusal had been to his
mother-in-law. Nevertheless, she remained hopeful that the
First Consul, if he continued in the same mind, would in the
end conquer the resistance of his brothers, and she expressed
to me her delight in seeing that the new plans of her husband
did not lead him to take again into consideration that terrible
divorce.

When Bonaparte had to complain of his brothers, Madame
Bonaparte's influence always increased, because her unchang-
ing sweetness had become Bonaparte's consolation in anger.
She made no attempt to obtain a promise either for herself or
for her children, and the confidence she showed in his tender-
ness, as well as the moderation of Eugene, could not but strike

^ General Klein has since married the waiting. He was appointed senator and
daughter of Countess d'Arberg, lady in made peer of France by the King.

- Since then Marshal Ney.

378

R^MUSAT

him, and must have pleased him greatly. Mesdames Baccio-
chi and Murat, very much excited over what was going to
happen, tried to draw from MM. de Talleyrand and de Fouche
the secret plans of the Consul, so as to know what they were
to expect. It was not in their power to hide what a flutter they
were in, and I saw how fluttered they were with some amuse-
ment, in their restless looks and in every word that escaped
them.

It was announced one evening that the Senate was coming
with great ceremony to bring to Bonaparte the decree which
gave him the crown. I seem to feel, in recalling it, all the
emotions this news made me feel at the time. The First Con-
sul, in acquainting his wife with the affair, said he was going
to surround himself with a somewhat more numerous court,
but that he would know how to distinguish the newcomers
from those whose services had been devoted to his fortunes
from the first. He charged her to assure M. de Remusat and
myself of his good intentions in our behalf.

I have said before that he had been deeply grieved at my
inability to dissemble my feelings at the death of the Due
d'Enghien. His indulgence in this respect had in no way di-
minished ; perhaps he found it rather amusing to penetrate the
mysteries of my impressions, and efface them little by little
by a show of benevolent care which revived my devotion to
him when it was on the point of dying out. I was by no
means strong enough to struggle successfvilly against the at-
tachment which I felt disposed to have for him. I lament his,
in my opinion, immense mistake ; but v.hen I saw him, so to
speak, better than in the past, I thought indeed that he had
made a false calculation, yet was grateful to him, nevertheless,
for keeping his word, and proving himself good and sweet
afterward, as he had promised to be.

The fact is that at that period he had need of everybody,
and he neglected no means of success. His skill had suc-
ceeded equally well in the case of M. de Caulaincourt, who,
seduced by his attention, regained gradually his former seren-
ity and came to be intimately in his confidence in regard to
his future plans. At this same time, having questioned his
wife in regard to the opinions each individual of the court held
expressed concerning the death of the prince, and learning

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 379

from her that M. de Remusat, habitually silent both from taste
and prudence, though always honest when questioned, had not
been afraid to avow to her his secret indignation, Bonaparte,
who seemingly had promised himself to let nothing anger him
just then, broached the subject to M. de Remusat, and explain-
ing his policy as he thought best, succeeded in convincing M.
de Remusat that he had believed this rigorous act was neces-
sary to the peace of France.

My husband, in telling me about this interview, said to me :
" I am far from believing that it was necessary in order to
establish his authority to shed blood like this, and I told him
so without fear, but I confess that I find comfort in the thought
that it was not the passion of revenge or the like that influenced
him. And indeed whatever he may say, I saw that he was so
agitated because of the effect it had produced that in future,
I am sure, he will not try to assert his power by means so ter-
rible. I did not miss the chance to point out to him that in
a century like this and in a nation like ours a man stakes a
great deal when he wishes to gain power by bloody terrors.
I augur much from the fact that he listened with close atten-
tion to all I wished to say."

It may be seen by this sincere avowal of what we both
went through what need there was just then of confidence.
Severe judges of the sentiments of others would undoubtedly
blame us for the ease with which we deluded ourselves ; they
would say with some appearance of reasonableness that this
readiness owed much to our personal situation. Ah, without
doubt ! It is so painful to face one's conditions and blush for
one's part in them ; it is so sweet to love the duties one takes
up ; and so natural to wish to improve one's own future and
that of one's country ; that only with difficulty and after a
long struggle can one accept the truth that would blemish his
life. It came later, this truth ; it came step by step, but finally
with strength so great that it no longer allowed us to drive it
back, and we have paid dear for that error to which our sweet
and yielding souls continued faithful as long as it was possible
to them.

Be that as it may, on May 18, 1804, the Second Consul,
Cambaceres, president of the Senate, presented himself at
St. Cloud, followed by the whole Senate and a considerable

38o REMUSAT

body of troops. He made a suitable speech, giving to Bona-
parte for the first time the title of Majesty. Bonaparte ac-
cepted it calmly, as though it had been rightfully his all his
life. The senators passed immediately into the apartment of
Madame Bonaparte, whom in turn they pronounced Empress.
She responded with her customary grace, which made her
always equal to whatever her situation called for.

At the same time what one may call the great dignitaries
were created : the grand elector, Joseph Bonaparte ; the com-
mander-in-chief, Louis Bonaparte ; the archchancellor of the
empire, Cambaceres ; the arch treasurer, Lebrvui. The minis-
ters, the secretary of state, Marat, who took the rank of minis-
ter, the colonels of the guard, the governor of the palace,
Duroc, the prefects of the palace, and the aides-de-camp, all
took oath ; and on the next day the new commander-in-chief
presented to the Emperor the officers of the army, among
whom was Eugene de Beauharnais, simple colonel.

The objection the family had raised against the adoption
he wished to make caused Bonaparte to throw aside the idea
for the time being. The succession was settled upon descend-
ants of Napoleon Bonaparte, and in default of issue upon those
of Joseph and Louis, who were created princes imperial. A
decree of the Senate provided that the Emperor might adopt
for his successor any one of his nephews, but only when that
nephew was eighteen years old ; but adoption was forbidden
except to those of his race.

The civil list was that allowed the King in 1791, and the
princes were to be dealt with conformably with the old law
passed December 20, 1790. The great dignitaries were to
have one-third of the sum allowed the princes, and were to
preside over the electoral colleges of the six largest cities of
the empire. The princes would be, after their eighteenth
year, life members of the Senate and of the Council of State.

Sixteen marshals were also created besides some senators,
to whom the title of marshal was given.^

The following is the form of the decree:

" Napoleon, by the grace of God and by the Constitution of

' Here are the names of fourteen mar- Lannes, Mortier, Ney, Davout, Bes-

shals named at this period: Berthier, sieres. The senators who had this title

Murat, Moncey, Jourdan, Massena, were Kellermann, Lefebvre, Perignon,

Augereau, Bernadotte, Soult, Brune, Serurier.

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 381

the Republic Emperor of the French, present and to come,
greeting.

" The Senate, having heard the orators of the Council of
State, has decreed, and we order that which follows:

" The following proposition will be submitted to the ap-
proval of the French people :

" ' The French people desire that the imperial dignity shall
descend to the heirs direct, natural, legitimate, and adopted, of
Napoleon Bonaparte and to the heirs direct, natural and legiti-
mate, of Joseph Bonaparte and of Louis Bonaparte, as it was
established by the decree of the Senate Floreal the 28th, year
XII of the Republic.' "

This decree was proclaimed in all parts of Paris, and, as it
was necessary to think of everything at the same time, a par-
agraph in the " Moniteur " informed the public that to the
princes must be given the title Imperial Highness, to the great
dignitaries that of Serene Highness, that the ministers were to
be addressed as monseigneur by public officials and petition-
ers, while the marshals were called monsieur le marechal.

Thus the title citoycn, already forgotten in the social world
where monsieur had regained its ancient rights, disappeared
for all time. Up to this time Bonaparte had scrupulously
made use of it, but this same day, the eighteenth of May, having
invited his brothers, Cambaceres, Lebrun, and the ministers
to dine at his house, we heard him for the first time make use
of the name monsieur; nor did his long habit once bring to
his lips the word citoyen.

At the same time were created the titles of the great offi-
cials of the empire : eight inspectors and colonels-general of
the artillery, of the engineers, of the cavalry, and of marine,
and great civil officers of the crown, of whom I shall speak
later.

Bonaparte's accession to the imperial throne produced in Eu-
rope a multitude of different impressions, and even in France
opinion was divided, though it is acknowledged that the ma-
jority of the people were not shocked. The Jacobins, accus-
tomed as they were to push their success as far as it would go
whenever fortune favored them, were not at all astonished.
The royalists lost courage; on this point Bonaparte obtained
what he wanted.

382 R^MUSAT

But the change from the consulate to imperial power was
displeasing to the true friends of liberty. Unfortunately these
were divided, as they are even to this day, into two classes,
thus diminishing their influence. One class was indifferent
enough to change in the reigning house, and would have as
willingly accepted Bonaparte as another, provided his power
was derived upon a constitution which held in check at the
same time it established its powers. They saw with alarm a
man, bold and warlike, possess himself of an authority whose
encroachments, it was easily foreseen, the chambers, already
knocked incapable, would not repress. The Senate seemed
sworn to passive obedience ; the Tribunate tottered on its foun-
dations ; and what could be expected from the silent legislature ?
The ministers without any responsibility were only chief clerks,
and one saw in advance that the Council of State, systematically
directed, would become a great storehouse from which they
would in future draw out laws to fit the passing circumstances.

If this first division of the friends of liberty had been more
numerous and under good leadership, without doubt its mem-
bers would have been able to influence the Emperor and to
teach the people to demand with persistence what a nation
never long demands in vain, the proper and legitimate exer-
cise of its rights.

But there existed a second section which agreed with the
other in substance, but their reliance upon theories, which they
had attempted to put into practice in a dangerous and san-
guinary manner, precluded the possibility of joining the two
divisions into an effective opposition.

Here I wish to speak of the proselytes of the Anglo-Ameri-
can government. They saw without dismay the creation of
the consulate, for that in their eyes represented the presidency
in the United States. They believed, or wished to believe,
that Bonaparte would maintain that equality of rights to which
they attached so much importance. Among these some were
won over, in good faith ; I say some, for I believe that their
personal vanity, excited by the assiduity with which at first he
flattered and consulted them in all things, was what blinded
the major part of them. If they had no secret interest in de-
ceiving themselves, why, indeed, should one hear them declare
so often since that they had loved Bonaparte as Consul, but as

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE

3^3

Emperor Bonaparte had become odious to them? While his
consulate had lasted, was he so different from himself? Was
his consular authority anything but dictatorial power under an-
other name ? Had he not always decided peace and war? Had
he not had the right to levy conscription? Did he allow free
discussion of public affairs? Were journals allowed one para-
graph of which he disapproved? Had he not clearly shown
that he derived his power by right of his victorious arms?
How could these severe republicans let themselves be over-
reached ?

I understand well how men who were tired of revolutionary
troubles, and frightened by that liberty which they had long
since learned to associate wdth death, would welcome peace in
the domination of an able master — one whom, moreover, for-
tune seemed determined to second. I can conceive that they
might see the decree of destiny in his elevation, and that they
would console themselves by finding peace in the inevitable.
I will venture to say that there were those who believe in good
faith that Bonaparte, whether he were Consul or Emperor,
would oppose by exercising his authority, the violence of fac-
tions and save us from the dangers of riotous anarchy.

One did not dare pronounce the name of the Republic, so
much had the Terror profaned it ; the dictatorial government
was annihilated by the contempt its chiefs inspired ; the return
of the Bourbons could come to pass only by the aid of a revo-
lution ; the least agitation frightened the French, whose enthu-
siasm seemed to be exhausted. Moreover, the men to whom
they had successively confided themselves had deceived them,
and this time, in accepting the rule of might they were at least
sure they v/ere not deluding themselves.*

* In spite of my great desire not to
add to the opinions contemporaneous
witti the author, those which reflection,
experience, and the historical conse-
quences of these events have enabled
us to form, it is difficult to refrain from
saying that the persons who censured
the empire while fully approving of the
consulate, showed, in fact, little judg-
ment and no very lively susceptibility
in the matter of liberty. We have seen
since then analogous times, and it seems
certain that discriminating persons were
able to vote for the presidency of Prince
Louis Bonaparte without foreseeing the
coup d'etat of December 2, 1851, and
— to be indulgent even as to this last
event — without accepting even then the

re-establishment of the empire and its
consequences. I can recollect more
readily that my father and his contem-
poraries by no means shared this illu-
sion and voted for the presidency of
General Cavaignac.

But in 1804 the situation was still
more complicated. Assuredly since the
eighteenth Brumaire France had not
been a free state, and her chief pos-
sessed a power limited only by the
prudence and moderation of one man.
Nevertheless there was one great dif-
ference between this condition of af-
fairs and what followed — between the
consulate and the empire. Not alone
the indeterminate extension of power
which this new title of Emperor gave,

584

R^MUSAT

The opinion, then, or rather the error, that at this time des-
potism alone could maintain order in France was very general.
It became Bonaparte's point of support, and perhaps — let us do
him the justice of saying — it influenced him as well as others.
He upheld it with great skill, and the factions helped him by
engaging in prudent undertakings which proved advantageous
to his authority ; he believed with some good grounds that he
was necessary. France believed the same, and in the end he
even succeeded in convincing sovereigns of other countries
that he was a guarantee to them against republican influences
which without him would be propagated.

It is probable that at the moment when Bonaparte placed
the crown imperial upon his head there was not a king in
Europe who did not think his own safer on that account,
and if, in truth, the new Emperor had joined with his de-
cisive act the gift of a liberal constitution it may be that

but the pomp which surrounded it, the
ceremony acknowledged as the neces-
sary accessory of despotism, the insti-
tutions and forms which the imagina-
tion, taste, and pride of Napoleon united
to invent, made of this new power
something very different from that
which had preceded it, something much
more incongruous with ideas and cus-
toms of the Revolution than one would
expect. Although the change from the
consulate to the empire was not a
change from liberty to despotism one
would be neither inconsistent nor wa-
vering in declaring one's self the enemy
of the empire after having been a pro-
fessed friend of the consulate.

The impressions of the public were
not so simple as those of the residents
of St. Cloud. The public would evi-
dently be cognizant of many things
concerning which they were not ready
with an opinion. The court, and espe-
cially the author of these memoirs and
her friends, without being anti-revolu-
tionary, had no tenderness for the inter-
ests of the Revolution nor respect for
its promises; without being royalists,
they were monarchical, not republican,
in their sympathies, and, as they were
accustomed by habit to see in the chief
executive of the republic a master
whom they must please and obey every
moment, the transition to the empire
was easy for them. France, on the
other hand, was more republican in its
ideas, its habits, and customs than
would have been believed at the palace
—than one would believe to-day if one
judged from a superficial stuiy of a
past time. Reaction, passion for order,
distrust of the abuses of liberty, all
these the French people certainly felt,
but they believed it possible to satisfy
these feelings without a monarchy, es-

pecially a solemn, hereditary, absolute
monarchy, insolently set off by an im-
provised aristocracy and a court of par-
venues. We saw something like it in

iS73.

It would be puerile to deny that a
reactionary movement against liberty
and the republic was started then, but
in that time of publicity when they saw
that this movement could only end in
the re-establishment of the dynasty
which had just impoverished and hu-
miliated France or in the restoration of
the legitimate monarchy and the white
flag, its most reasonable adherents drew
back and acknowledged that M. Thiers
was right in saying that a republic was
the only government compatible with
the interests and opinions of modern
France.

But we must not forget that, even then,
honest people, as is natural to say, how-
ever erroneously this expression has
been used — that honest people detested
only the revolution of Jacobinism, and
that the philosophy of the Constituent
Assembly dominated all their social, po-
litical, even their religious ideas. New
France was, however, proud of the new
glory that the victories of General Bona-
parte had given her. She felt that she
was free from all that had made her
blush in the Revolulion. and had no
desire to appear under another name.
No real need, no imminent peril, no
fancy even of this changeable nation
called for the empire; and the success
of this establishment, which seemed to
the liberal, fault-finding bourgeoise of
Paris a little hazardous, was doubtful
up to the time of the battle of Auster-
litz. Then the servitude was gilded and
seemed acceptable, and they sold lib-
erty at the price of glory.

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 385

the peace of nations and kings would have been forever
strengthened.

The sincere defenders of the original system of Bonaparte —
and it exists, in effect, to-day — claim for his justification that
they could require of him only what it was customary for a
legitimate sovereign to give ; for liberty to discuss our interests
might be followed by the discussion of our rights; England,
jealous of our renewed prosperity, had attempted to foment
among us new troubles ; our princes would by no means give
over their attempts ; and the moderation of a constitutional
government would have few characteristics calculated to re-
strain factions. Hume, speaking of Cromwell, opines that the
great inconvenience of a usurper's government is that ordi-
narily he is obliged to have a personal policy opposed to the
interests of his country. He ascribes (let us say in passing) a
superiority to hereditary authority of which it would be well
for the people to become convinced.

But, after all, Bonaparte was not an ordinary usurper — his
elevation offered no point of comparison with that of Crom-
well. " I found," he said, " the crown of France upon the
ground, and picked it up with the point of my sword." The
living product of an inevitable revolution, he had had no hand
in any of its disasters; and up to the time of the Due d'En-
ghien's death had preserved, I believe, at least the possibility
of legitimizing his power by some of those services which
always won over nations.

His despotic ambition carried him along, but it was not, I
assure you, that alone which deluded him. Appearances,
which he did not take the pains to get to the bottom of, mis-
led him. A few individuals indeed made a great to-do about
the word liberty, but it must be confessed that these individ-
uals were by no means spotless, nor were they high enough
in the estimation of the nation to be representatives of its will ;
but respectable persons seemed to ask only for peace without
minding under what forms it presented itself.

Finally he discerned that the secret weakness of the French
was their vanity, and saw a means by which he could easily
satisfy it by the aid of the splendors following in the train of
monarchies ; he revived distinctions at bottom democratic, since
everybody had a right to them and they carried with them no
25

86 R^MUSAT

privileges. The eagerness they showed for titles, entails, and
decorations which they had jeered at as long as they adorned the
coats of their neighbors, need not have undeceived him if in
truth he was misled : on the contrary, ought he not congratulate
himself that, with a few words added to a name and by means
of some ends of ribbon, he had succeeded in the end in level-
ling, under the same title, the pretensions of feudalism and of
republicanism? Have we not ourselves been committed to
this opinion, so fixed in his mind, that he ought, for his own
security and for ours, to avail himself of his great strength to
suspend the Revolution without at the same time destroying it ?

" My successor, whoever he may be, will be forced to act with
his century," he said once, " and will only be able to maintain
himself by the support of liberal opinions. I will bequeath
them to him stripped of their original roughness." France
foolishly appeared to applaud this idea.

Very soon, however, a confused voice, which to him was
that of conscience, to us that of interest, seemed to warn him
as well as us. To stifle its importunate accents, he thought
he must bewilder us with extraordinary and ever-changing
scenes. Among these were his interminable wars, whose con-
tinuance seemed to him so important that he always called
only by the name halt the treaties of peace he signed, and every
one of these treaties were forced upon him only by the diplo-
matic skill of M. de Talleyrand.

In fact, when he returned to Paris and took up again the ad-
ministration of affairs, beside not knowing what to do with
the army whose claims every victory increased, he experienced
every difficulty from that resistance, speechless but weighty,
but inevitable, which, even in spite of individual weaknesses,
the spirit of the century makes against despotism. Has not
despotism, indeed to me, happily become impractical as a form
of government? It died with the fortunes of Bonaparte, and
it has been so well said by Madame de Stael : " The terrible
club which he alone could lift has ended by falling on his head."
Happy, a hundred times happy, are the times in which we
live to-day, for we have exhausted every experience and no one
but fools may demur concerning the road which should lead us
to safety.

But Bonaparte for a long time was helped and dazzled also

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 387

by the military ardor of the youth of France. This inordinate
passion for conquest given by a maUgn genius to human
communities as if to retard the step each generation ought
to make toward every kind of prosperity, dragged us along
behind the destructive steel of Bonaparte. It is difficult in
France to resist the power of glory, especially when that glory
covers and disguises the sad humiliation to which each sees
himself condemned. In peace Bonaparte must have let us see
the secret of our servitude, but when our children are to plant
our flag over the ramparts of every great city in Europe, that
servitude vanishes from our sight. There passed a very long
time indeed before we saw how each one of our victories added
a link to the chain which rivetted our liberties, and when we
realized the frenzy of our intoxication it was too late to resist ;
for the army, having become the accomplice of tyranny, had
broken with France and would see only rebellion in her cry
for deliverance.

Bonaparte's greatest mistake, a mistake which was due to
his character, was that, in determining his course, he built
upon success, though perhaps this is more excusable than
being in doubt whether a reverse may not overtake one. His
native pride could not endvire the idea of any kind of defeat :
this was the weak side of his genius, for a superior man ought
to be provided for every fortune. His soul wanting nobility,
and lacking those instinctive great sentiments which surmount
ill fortune, he turned his thoughts from this deficiency in him-
self— was fond indeed of fixing his mind in that admirable dis-
position he had to raise himself by success. " I will succeed "
— this is the fundamental word of his calculations, and often his
obstinacy in pronouncing it helped him achieve what he would.
Finally his luck became his favorite superstition, and the ven-
eration he thought he must render it legitimized in his eyes
the sacrifices he was obliged to require of us. And we, have
we not at first shared this disastrous superstition?

Our imaginations, tractable and lovers of the marvellous,
were dominated by this illusion when the events of my narra-
tive occurred. The trial of General Moreau, and especially
the death of the Due d'Enghien, were revolting to the feelings,
but did not unsettle our opinions. Bonaparte scarcely con-
cealed that the one or the other helped him in accomplishing

388 R^MUSAT

the work he had long since planned. It mtist be said for the
credit of humanity that repugnance for crime is so innate within
us that we around Bonaparte were ready to believe for our own
comfort that it was necessary that it should be committed, and
when we saw how he succeeded in rising by the aid of such
a ladder, one appears very ready in the kind of agreement he
proposed to us, to forgive him in case of success.

They ceased to love him from that moment, but the time
when men rule by the love of the people is past, and Bonaparte,
showing that he knew how to punish as much as his purpose
required, thought he had made a good exchange when he
gave up this feeble attachment they wished him to treasure
for the genuine fear he inspired. One admired, from astonish-
ment at least, the boldness of the game he played in the open,
and when, with an audacity truly imposing, he leaped from the
bloody foss of Vincennes to the throne imperial, crying out,
" I have won the game," France, dumbfounded, could not help
taking up the cry.

Not long after the day when Bonaparte was invested with
the title of Emperor (I shall have no scruples in making use
of this title sometimes in speaking of him, for he really bore it
longer than that of Consul),^ in one of those moments when he
felt disposed to an outpouring of the kind I have already
spoken of, being alone with his wife, my husband, and myself,
he unbosomed himself rather freely upon the new conditions.
I seem to see him still in the embrasure of a window in the
salon at St. Cloud, sitting astride his chair with his chin
resting on its back, Madame Bonaparte on a sofa some steps
away from him, myself sitting in front of him, and M. de Remu-
sat standing behind my chair. He had at first kept silent for
a time, then suddenly began to speak.

" And so," he said, " you were angry with me for the death
of the Due d'Enghien ? " " It is true, sire," I answered, " and
I am angry with you still. It seems to m3 you have done
wrong." " But you know he was waiting yonder for my
assassination." " That is possible, sire, but he was not in
France." " Well, it is not bad to show one's self, now and
then, master in another man's house." " Stop, sire, do not

' This remark seems strange if one when the words Emperor, empire, and
does not recollect that these memoirs even Bonaparte were no longer used
were written under the restoration, in good society.

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 389

speak further of it or you will make me cry." " Oh, the tears !
the women have only that resource. It is so with Joseph-
ine ; she believes everything is gained when she has wept.
Tears, M. Remusat, are a woman's greatest argument."
" Sire," answered my husband, " one cannot blame her."
" Oh, I see, you also take the thing seriously. It is quite
simple, nevertheless. You others have your memories ; you
have seen other times. I date only from the time when I
began to be something. What is the Due d'Enghien to me?
An emigre more important than the others, that is all ; and it is
enough to say of it that I had to strike the harder on that ac-
count. And those fools of royalists, had they not spread the
report that I was going to put the Bourbons again upon the
throne ? The Jacobins were afraid of it ; Fouche came one
time to ask in their name what my intentions were. Author-
ity had been placed in my hands so entirely and so naturally
for two years past that they found it possible to doubt some-
times whether I had seriously the wish to receive it officially.
Also, I have considered it my task to take advantage of it to
legally end the Revolution. This is why I preferred the em-
pire to the directory, because by it one legitimates one's self
and stands upon firmer ground.

" I began by wishing to reconcile the two factions which I
found at loggerheads on my accession to the consulate. I
believed that in laying the foundations for good order by
means of permanent institutions, I would discourage their
taste for violence. But factions are by no means discouraged
when one has the air of being afraid of them, and one has
this air as long as one works to reconcile them. Besides,
one can reach the end of emotions sometimes ; of opinions
never. I understood, then, that I could not make a pact
between them, but found that I could use them for my
own ends.

" The concordat and its radiations have brought me nearer to
reconciliation with the emigres, and all in good time that rec-
onciliation will be complete, for you shall see how the allure-
ments of a court will attract them. It is by the lingo which
brings to mind their traditions that the nobles may be won;
but with the Jacobins deeds are necessary ; they are not the
men to be taken in by words. My necessary severities have

390 REMUSAT

given them satisfaction. On the 3d of Nivose,® on the occa-
sion, by the way, of a conspiracy wholly of royalist origin, I
exiled a pretty large number of Jacobins ; they would have
been justified in complaining that time if I had not hit hard.
You all believed that I was going to become cruel and san-
guinary, and you were mistaken. I have no malice, I am by
no means capable of doing anything for revenge ; I turn away
from what pains me, and you would see me to-morrow, if it
were necessary, pardon Georges himself, who came here duly
to assassinate me.

" When they shall see the peaceful times following that event
they will not be angry wath me, and in one year they will con-
sider it a great political action. It is true, however, that it
has forced me to hasten the crisis. What I have just done
only entered into my plans for two years from now. I counted
upon keeping the consulate, although with that form of gov-
ernment words clash with things, and the signatures I put
upon all public documents are mere paraphs of an endless
fiction. We would, however, still have been in agreement,
France and I, for she has taken courage and she wishes for all
that I wish for. But with that conspiracy they thought to ex-
cite all Europe ; it was necessary to undeceive Europe and the
royalists. I had to choose between persecution in detail and
one swift blow. My choice could not be uncertain.

" I have now forced both royalists and Jacobins to be for-
ever silent. There remains only the republicans, those vi-
sionaries who believe they can make a republic out of a
worn-out monarchy, and that Europe would tranquilly let us
establish a federated government of 20,000,000 men. These I
have not gained, but they are few in number and without in-
fluence. You others — Frenchmen — you love the monarchy ;
it is the only government that pleases you. I wager M. Remu-
sat, that you are more at ease, a hundred times, now that you
call me Sire and I call you Monsieur."

As he had hit the truth in this remark, my husband began to
laugh, and answered that the sovereign power did in fact
seem to go very well with him.

" Indeed," replied the Emperor, whose good-humor con-
tinued, " I believe that I would obey it very ill. T remember

• Period of the infernal machine.

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 391

that at the time of the treaty of Campo-Formlo, when we
came together, M. de Cobenzl and I, to conclude negotiations
in a hall where, according to the Austrian custom, they had
raised a dais and equipped the throne of the Austrian Em-
peror. When I entered the room I asked what that signified ;
and afterward I said to the Austrian minister : ' Wait ! Be-
fore we commence, have this chair taken away, for I have never
seen a seat more elevated than the others that I have not wished
to sit in it immediately.' You see I had a presentiment of what
was going to happen to me, one day.

" I have acquired to-day a great facility for governing
France. It is this, that neither she nor I deceive ourselves
any longer. Talleyrand wished me to call myself Roi: it is
the word for his dictionary. He would have believed himself
at once a great lord under a king ; but I want only great
lords of my own making; and beside, since the title of King
is hackneyed it carries with it preconceived ideas — it would
make me a kind of inheritor, and I wish to take the leavings
of no man. The title I bear is grander ; it is again a little
vague; it helps the imagination. Here is a revolution ended,
and quietly. I boast of it. Do you know why ? It is because
it has taken away no interest and awakened many. Your vani-
ties must be kept in working order for you people ; the aus-
terity of the republican government has tired you to death.

" What was it caused the Revolution ? It is vanity. What
will end it ? Vanity again. Liberty is a pretext. Equality ! —
there is your cap and bells — and there are the people content
to have for their king a man taken from the soldier class. Men
like Abbe Sieyes may well have cried ' To a despotism! ' for my
authority will always remain popular. To-day the people and
the army are mine; he would indeed be stupid who did not
know how to rule with that."

While finishing this sentence Bonaparte rose. A moment be-
fore he had been very gay ; his tone of voice, his face, his ges-
tures, were all in harmony with his reassuring simplicity. He
smiled and saw us smile, and was even amused by the reflec-
tions we mingled with his discourse. In short, he had put us
all entirely at ease. But, as if he had suddenly ended his role
of good fellow, in an instant his face became grave and assumed
again the stern looks which always seemed to increase his stat-

392 REMUSAT

ure, and he gave M, de Remusat I know not what insignificant
order with all the harshness of an absolute master who wished
to lose no chance of commanding.

The sound of his voice, so different from the one which had
met my ears for the last hour, almost made me tremble ; and
when we had withdrawn, my husband, who had noticed this
manoeuvre, confided to me that he had received the same im-
pression.

" You see," he said, " he fears that this moment of expan-
siveness will diminish to some degree the fear he wishes always
to inspire. He thought that in dismissing us he must let us
take our leave in the presence of a master." This true and keen
remark has never faded from my memon.', and I have more
than once since then been in a position to judge upon how great
knowledge of the character of Bonaparte it was founded.

But I have allowed myself to be carried along by the narra-
tive of this conversation and by the reflections which preceded
it. Let us come back to the day when Bonaparte was made
Emperor, and finish describing the strange scenes that passed
before my view.

I have said that Bonaparte had invited several persons to
dine with him on that day. A moment before placing us at
table, the governor of the palace, Duroc, came and instructed
us, one by one, that the titles of prince and princess must be
given to Joseph and Louis Bonaparte and their wives. ]Mes-
dames Bacciochi and Murat seemed offended on account of
this difference between them and their sisters-in-law. }vladame
Murat especially had difficulty in concealing her dissatisfaction.

About six o'clock the new Emperor appeared and began,
without any apparent difficulty, to salute each one by his new
title. I remember that, being alone for a moment, I received
an impression which one might reasonably call a presentiment.
The day had at first been fair but very warm. About the time
when the Senate reached St. Cloud the weather suddenly
changed, the sky clouded over, and several claps of thunder
were heard ; we were threatened for several hours with a vio-
lent storm. The black and cloudy sky which seemed to hang
heavy over the Chateau of St. Cloud appeared to me like a bad
omen, and I had difficulty in banishing the sadness I felt.

As for the Emperor, he was gay and serene, and, I think.

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE

393

secretly enjoyed the slight constraint which the new ceremonial
put upon us all. The Empress preserved all her courteous ease
of manner ; Joseph and Louis seemed contented ; Aladame Jo-
seph, resigned to what they exacted of her ; Madame Louis
submissive, likewise; and what I cannot praise too much, in
comparison, Eugene de Beauharnais — simple, natural, and
showing a mind free from all hidden and unsatisfied ambition.
The same cannot be said of the new marshal, j\Iurat, but his
fear of his brother-in-law forced him to control himself. He
maintained a pensive silence.

As for Madame jMurat, she was passing through a violent
spasm of ill-temper, and during dinner was so little mistress
of herself that when she heard the Emperor at different times
mention Princess Louis she could not restrain her tears. She
drank repeated draughts from tumblers of water, trying to re-
cover herself and to appear at ease, but tears continually got the
better of her.

Everyone was embarrassed, and her brother smiled rather
maliciously. As for me, I felt the greatest surprise, and at the
same time, I must say, almost disgusted at seeing this young
and pretty face distorted by the emotion of a passion so coarse.

Madame Murat was twenty-two or twenty-three years old;
her face was of dazzling whiteness ; her beautiful blonde hair,
the wreath of flowers that crowned it, the rose-color gown that
she wore gave to her person something youthful, almost child-
like, which contrasted disagreeably with the feeling made for
another age with which one saw she was tainted. One could
not pity her tears ; I believe they affected everybody quite as
disagreeably as me. Madame Bacciochi, older, more mistress
of herself, did not weep, but she appeared rude and brusque,
and treated each of us with marked hauteur.

The Emperor seemed irritated by this conduct of his two
sisters, and added to their discontent by indirect raillery, which
wounded them, however, very directly. All that I saw that day
gave me a new idea of the strength of the emotions ambition
can create in souls of a certain kind : it was a scene of which
before that day I had no conception.

The next day, after the new household had dined together,
a violent scene ensued, which I did not witness, but we heard
the din through the wall which separated the Empress's salon

-,aA R^RIUSAT

from the one in which we sat. Madame Murat burst forth
into complaints, tears, and reproaches ; she demanded why they
wished to condemn her and her sisters to obscurity, to contempt,
while they covered strangers with honors and dignities. Bona-
parte was very rough in his responses, declaring several times
that he was the master and would distribute dignities as he
wished. It was on this occasion that he let fall the stinging
words which I have remembered : " In truth, to see your pre-
tensions, mesdames, one would think you took the crown from
the hands of the late King, your father."

The Empress told me later all about this dispute. Good as
she was, she could not help being amused a little at the griefs
of a person who hated her cordially. At the close of the con-
versation, Madame Murat, beside herself with jealousy and
with sharpness of the words she had had to hear, fell upon
the floor in a dead faint. Bonaparte's wrath vanished at this
sight ; he became calm, and vv^hen his sister recovered con-
sciousness, he showed some disposition to satisfy her. In fact,
some days later, after a consultation with M. de Talleyrand,
Cambaceres, and others, it was decided that there could be no
objection to conferring by courtesy a particular title upon the
sisters of the Emperor, and we were informed by the " Moni-
tcur " that in speaking to them we must give them the much-
desired title of Imperial Highness.

But there still remained for the present another grief for
Madame Murat and her husband. The regulations of the pal-
ace of St. Cloud divided the imperial apartments into several
salons, which one entered according to the new rank with which
one was invested. The salon nearest the office of the Emperor
became the salon of the throne or of the princes, and Marshal
Murat, although the husband of a princess, was not admitted
there. It was M. de Remusat who was charged with the dis-
agreeable duty of stopping him when he was about to go in.
Although my husband was in no way responsible for the orders
he had received, and he transmitted them with studied polite-
ness, Murat was much wounded by this public affront, and
both Murat and his wife, ill-disposed against us as they were be-
cause of our attachment for the Empress, now did us the honor
of regarding us with a concealed hatred, the effects of which
we more than once felt. But in this case, Madame Murat, who

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE

395

had recognized the power her complaints had over her brother,
did not regard her cause as lost, and, in fact, she did succeed
in the end in raising her husband to all the dignities she longed
for so passionately.

The new prerogatives of rank brought much trouble into a
court hitherto peaceable enough. We around Madame Bona-
parte were a sort of epitome of the restlessness of vanity which
had upset the imperial household.

Beside the four ladies of the palace, Madame Bonaparte often
assembled around her the wives of the different officers of the
First Consul.

We saw a great deal of Madame Maret, who lived at St.
Cloud on account of her husband's position, and of the daugh-
ter of the Marquis de Beauharnais, who had married M. de la
Valette, and whose sorrows and conjugal tenderness at the
time of the trial and escape of her husband in 1815 have since
given her so much celebrity. Her husband, though of obscure
birth, was a man of mind ; and his character was amiable and
pliant. After serving some time in the army he quitted mili-
tary life, which was repugnant to a man of his gentle ways.
The First Consul had employed him in several diplomatic mis-
sions, and he had just been made counsellor of state. He dis-
played extreme devotion to all his recently acquired relations,
the Beauharnais. His wife was simple and sweet ordinarily,
but now it was fated that vanity should be the source of all the
sentiments of everybody attached to the court, whatever their
age or sex.

A decision of the Emperor had allowed the ladies of the pal-
ace some precedence over the other women ; this was a signal
for the display of every feminine jealousy. Madame Maret,
proud and haughty, was wounded at seeing us walk before her ;
her ill-humor put her in sympathy with A-Iadame Murat, who
understood so well dissatisfaction of that sort. Beside, M. de
Talleyrand, who did not like Maret and teased him pitilessly
with his jests, being also rather at odds with Murat, became
the object of the hatred of these two, and was through this
hatred the occasion even of a sort of alliance between them.
The Empress, who by no means loved anyone attached to
Madame Murat, treated Madame Maret rather rudely, and
because of this, although I am always a stranger to every vio-

396

REMUSAT

lent emotion and on my own account hate nobody, I was to
some extent comprised in the animadversion of this party
against the Beauharnais.

Finally, on Sunday morning, the new Empress received or-
ders to appear at mass accompanied by the four ladies in wait-
ing. Madame de la Valette, who until now had been almost
always at her aunt's side, found herself suddenly deprived of
that honor, and in her turn took refuge in tears, and we had
still another youthful ambition to console. This was all very
amusing to me. I remained serene in the midst of these
troubles, slightly ridiculous, though perhaps natural enough.
Indeed, one became so accustomed to seeing heads turned in
the palace, and to joys and sorrows produced only by new am-
bitions, satisfied or disappointed, that one day being rather gay
and full of laughter over I know not what curious doings, when
one of the aides-de-camp of Bonaparte asked me in a whisper
whether I had been promised some new dignity, I could not
help asking him, in my turn, whether he believed that in future
one was obliged always to weep at St. Cloud if one were not a
princess.

Not that I had not, like the others, my little ambition; but
that ambition was moderate and easily satisfied. The Emperor
had sent word to me by the Empress, and M. de Caulaincourt
had assured my husband that now that his fortunes were well
established he would not forget those who were devoted to
him in the past. Secure as to the future by this assurance, we
made no overtures. This was a mistake on our part, for every-
body else Avas doing everything possible ; but M. de Remusat
had always been averse to this kind of intrigue — a trait which
is almost a fault when one lives at court, for it is one of those
qualities which destroys all chance of advancement in the ser-
vice of sovereigns.

Generous sentiments and philosophical opinions, which are
a mark of independence of soul, are not pleasing to the great,
for what they are least able to forgive in serving them a man
should still find means of resisting their power. Bonaparte, as
particular as any sovereign imaginable in respect to the kind of
service given him, quickly perceived that M. de Remusat served
him loyally but with subservience to his caprices. This discov-
ery, together with certain circumstances which I will report in

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 397

their order, released him from what he had believed he owed
M. de Remusat. He kept my husband near him ; he employed
him because he was useful to him, but he did not advance him
as he did many others, for he saw that his gifts could not
purchase the attentions of a man who showed himself wholly
incapable of sacrificing delicacy to ambition.

Moreover, the trade of courtier was uncongenial to the tastes
of M. de Remusat. He loved seclusion, serious occupations,
and a quiet life; all the attachments of his heart were tender
and moral. The use, or the loss of his time, all devoted in his
position to that minute and continual attention to what consti-
tutes the etiquette of a court, always provoked regrets. Taken
from his natural place by the Revolution, which had deprived
him of his magistracy, he believed that the future of his
children necessitated his staying in the position into which cir-
cumstances had thrown him; but he was tired nevertheless of
this service in unimportant trifles to which he was condemned,
and he showed himself only exact where he ought to have been
assiduous.

Much later, when the veil that covered his eyes had fallen,
and he saw Bonaparte as he really was, indignation filled his
generous soul, and he suffered much just from being in an
office so closely attached to his person. In short, nothing cuts
short the advancement of a courtier like certain moral dislikes,
which he is not likely to try and overcome. At this period,
moreover, all these feelings were vague within us, and I will
return to what I commenced to say. We happened to think that
the Emperor owed us something and we relied upon him.

None the less, the time was not long coming when we
were of no importance. Presently, people equal to us, and
almost immediately people superior to us in birth and fortune
solicited the honor of becoming a member of the court. We
understood that we were not now to put a great price upon the
devotion of those who had from the first opened the way.
Bonaparte was really flattered by the gradual conquest of the
French nobility he had made. Madame Bonaparte, susceptible
to affection as she was, had her head turned for a moment
when she saw great ladies among the dames in waiting. Per-
sons more skilful in intrigue would on that occasion have re-
doubled their efforts and assiduity in an attempt to hold their

398 REM US AT

place, just as that crowd with lofty ideas of its own importance
hastened from every direction to do ; far from that.

We yielded. We saw opportunities for recovering some lib-
erty, and profited by them ; imprudently enough, for when for
any reason whatsoever one loses foothold in court one is seldom
able to regain the position one has occupied. M. de Talleyrand,
who urged Bonaparte to revive all the prestige of royalty, per-
suaded him to gratify the vainglorious pretensions of those
whom he wished to attract, saying that the nobility of France
was only satisfied when they were preferred, and that it was
necessary to dazzle their eyes with the distinction they believed
they had a right to demand. One was sure of winning over the
]\Iontmorencies, the Montesquieus, and others by promising
them that on the day when the new peers took rank at the court
of Bonaparte they would be first as in the past. It could,
indeed, hardly be otherwise, once it was decided to form a real
court.

There were those who believed that it would have been better
for Bonaparte had he, in taking the new title of Emperor, kept
in his court something of the simple and austere conditions
which had obtained during the consulate. A constitutional
government on one hand ; a court few in number, without lux-
ury, which would represent the changes in ideas which the Rev-
olution had brought about, would perhaps have satisfied their
vanities less^ but would have obtained a truer respect. At the
period of which I speak, however, they were holding consulta-
tions on every side to find out in what way they could dignify
the circle by which the new Emperor was surrounded. Duroc
asked M. de Remusat to put into writing his ideas in regard to
this. My husband drew up a plan, wise and moderate, but
which they found too simple for the secret projects no one was
then able to divine.

" There is not enough pomp," Bonaparte said on reading it.
" This will not throw powder in their eyes."

He wished to allure in order to deceive.

He refused decidedly to give France a free constitution. He
had to dazzle them, to divert them by every possible means, and
as there is always some meanness in pride, supreme power was
not enough for him, and he wanted display, etiquette, and the
chamberlains and officials whom he thought would make the

LIFE AT THE COURT OF BONAPARTE 399

newness of things disappear sooner. He loved ceremony, his
bent was toward a feudal system, entirely foreign to the ideas
of the century in which we lived, which he hoped nevertheless
to establish, but which apparently would last only the duration
of his reign.

One cannot imagine all the ideas that passed through his
head in regard to this. " The French empire," he said, " will
be the mother country of other sovereignties. I wish that
every king in Europe could be forced to build a palace in Paris
for his use ; so that, at the time of my coronation as the Em-
peror of the French, these kings might come to Paris to honor
with their presence and greet with their homage that impos-
ing ceremony." Did this plan demonstrate aught but the hope
of re-creating the old fiefs, and of bringing to life again a
Charlemagne who would turn to his own advantage the des-
potic ideas of past ages and the experiences of modern times?

Bonaparte had so often repeated that he was in himself the
Revolution that in the end he persuaded himself that in taking
care of it in his own person he preserved all there was valu-
able in it from being destroyed.

However all that may be, the disease of etiquette seemed to
take possession of all the residents of the imperial Chateau of
St. Cloud. They took from the library the enormous book of
regulations of Lous XIV and began to make extracts in order
to draw up the rules of the etiquette for the new court. Ma-
dame Bonaparte tried to seek out INIadame Campan, who had
been first waiting- woman to IMarie Antoinette. She was a
sensible woman, and kept a school wdiere, as I have already said
somewhere, all the young persons who appeared at this court
had been educated. They questioned her minutely concerning
the private habits of the last Queen of France. I was instructed
to write, at her dictation, all that she w^ould tell, and Bona-
parte joined the very considerable manuscripts that resulted
from our interviews to those which were brought to him from
all sources. M. de Talleyrand was consulted about everything.
There was coming and going ; they moved about in an atmos-
phere of uncertainty which had its charm in the fact that every-
one expected to rise and to advance his interests.

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE

aliamc 3^unot

MADAME JUNOT, DUCHESSE D'ABRANTES

1 784-1 838

Laure Permon, afterward Madame Junot, Duchesse d'Abrantes, wife
of the well-known marshal, was born in 1784, and died in 1838. She
married General Junot in 1800, at the early age of sixteen, and soon after
that event became a leader among the beautiful and witty women of the
court of Napoleon I, her salon being frequented by the most prominent
personages in political and social life in Paris. After the fall of Napo-
leon she devoted herself to historical writing, and published successively
" Metnoires sur Napole'oti," " Alemoires siir la Restatiration," and
" Sotivettirs d'une Ambassade en Portugal." Despite the interest created
by these works their author fell into misfortune, and died in a charitable
institution in Paris. Her life was notable, however, for the boundless
extravagance of her habits, and to this fact must be attributed mainly its
unfortunate conclusion.

The period of Bonaparte's power will ever remain one of transcendent
interest. The upheaval of society caused by the Revolution ; the rise of
Napoleon, his marvellous successes, the manner in which all Europe be-
came implicated in the great struggle he made for empire over it, his
failure at Moscow and in Spain, and his final fall at Waterloo, are so
many scenes in a drama which interested and still interests the whole
world. The attraction of the recollections of Madame Junot is undoubted.
Her patriotic feelings may sometimes betray her into exaggeration, and
even occasional inaccuracy, and her satirical vein may lead her at times
into misrepresentation, but in general her memoirs are a valuable contri-
bution to the history of the inner life of the court of Napoleon ; while the
unaffected naturalness of her descriptions and her passion for minute
details render her narrative as charming and as interesting as the liveliest
romance.

402

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE

DURING the month of October Junot looked in upon us
every morning, and then came to dinner, having his
coach or his cabriolet always filled with drawings,
songs, and a heap of trifles for my mother and me ; and never
forgetting the bouquet, which, from the day of our engagement
to that of our marriage, he never once failed to present me. It
was Madame Bernard, the famous bouquctierc to the Opera,
who arranged these nosegays with such admirable art ; she has
had successors, it is true, but the honor of first introducing
them is her own.

One day Junot appeared uneasy, agitated, having been called
away from the dining-table. It was then Madame de Con-
tades, seeing him very silent, said jestingly: "General, you
are as serious as a conspirator! " Junot colored. " Oh! " she
continued, " I know that you have nothing to do with conspira-
cies, or at least that yours would only be directed against us
poor emigrants, returned and ruined as we are ; and really you
would have more than fair play ! "

" I believe," said I, " there is little danger in conspiracies ;
it is rare that their motives are perfectly pure, and the interest
of the country, always the pretence, is generally the last thing
intended ; and therefore it happens that almost all great con-
spiracies are discovered before they take efifect. The real dan-
ger to the chief of a state arises from a fanatic such as Jacques
Clement ; an insane ascetic, such as Ravaillac or Jean Chatel ;
or a hand conducted by desperation, like that of Charlotte Cor-
day ; those are the blows which cannot be warded off. What
barrier can be opposed to them ? What guards can prevent my
reaching the most powerful throne upon earth to hurl its master
to the grave, if I am willing to give blood for blood, life for
life?"

403

404 JUNOT

Everyone exclaimed against me. " Come," said my mother,
" away with these Grecian and Roman notions." I kissed her
hand and smiled ; a glance toward General Junot had found his
eyes fixed upon me with an expression so singular that an idea
crossed my mind that he would not be very solicitous for a
union with so resolute a woman, who seemed willing to play
with poniards as with her fan.

The thought seemed even to myself burlesque, because at
that period of my life I was one of the greatest cowards of my
sex. I was seated at the foot of my mother's sofa, and leaning
toward her, whispered to her in Italian the thought which had
just struck me. My mother laughed as well as myself, and we
both looked toward General Junot, supposing that he would
understand US', and approach to partake of our gayety. He
came indeed, but instead of replying to our jests, he fixed on
me an anxious look, and taking my hand and my mother's,
pressed them both.

While leaning over us he said to me : " Promise me not to
speak again upon this subject ; say you will not." " Undoubt-
edly I will not ; but why ? " "I will tell you by and by ; at
least, I hope so," he added, with a singular smile. Lucien Bona-
parte, who came in at that moment, would know to what our
conference related ; for the other interlocutors continued the
discussion, and the conspiracies were still as much alive as if we
had been in the prsetorian camps. " Bah ! " said Lucien ;
" these subjects of conversation are not suited for women, and
I wonder that these gentlemen have suffered them to proceed so
long. It would be much better to talk of the opera I am to give
you the day after to-morrow."

Albert, M. Hippolyte de Rastignac, and the Abbe Rose, ar-
rived at this moment from the general rehearsal. One was
much pleased with the opera, another did not like it at all.
Albert and the abbe, both good authorities, differed totally in
opinion ; music and the opera underwent a long and critical
discussion, Lucien and Junot meanwhile betaking themselves to
private conversation. I remarked that they never raised their
voices, and that the subject which occupied them seemed to be
serious and important.

The expression of their countenances made me uncomfort-
able, though I knew of nothing actually alarming. Everything

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE

405

appeared sombre and mysterious around us. It was evident
that great uneasiness agitated the persons who were attached to
the First Consul. I dared not ask a question. Lucien looked
upon me as a child ; and nothing could induce me to interro-
gate General Junot. Joseph, who was goodness itself, was the
only person to whom I could have summoned courage to speak
upon such a subject ; but he was about to set out for Luneville,
and we scarcely saw him again.

On October 11 Junot came early in the morning, which
was not usual. He was still more serious than on the day of the
conversation about conspiracies. We were to go this evening
to the first representation of " Les Horaces " of Porta and Guil-
lard. Guillard was the intimate friend of Brunetiere, who in-
terested himself much in its success, and had begged as a favor
that we would attend it.

This party was then arranged, and I confess much to my
satisfaction. My mother was better, and I looked forward to
the evening as a great treat. It was then with no very pleasant
emotion that I heard Junot ask my mother not to go to the
opera. His reasons for making this request were most singu-
lar. The weather was bad, the music was bad, the poem was
good for nothing; in short, the best thing we could do was to
stay at home.

My mother, who had prepared her toilet for all the magnifi-
cence of a first representation, and who would not have missed
it had it been necessary to pass through a tempest, and listen
to the dullest of poems, would not attend to any of Junot's ob-
jections ; and I was delighted, for I placed full confidence in
the Abbe Rose, who said that the music was charming. The
general, however, still insisted; so much obstinacy at length
made an impression upon my mother, who, taking the general's
arm, said to him anxiously, " Junot, why this perseverance ? is
there any danger ? are you afraid ? "

" No, no," exclaimed Junot. " I am afraid of nothing but the
ennui you will experience, and the effect of the bad weather.
Go to the opera. But," continued he, " if you decide upon
going, permit me to beg you not to occupy the box you have
hired, but to accept mine for the night."

" I have already told you, my dear general, that it is impossi-
ble. It would be contrary to all established customs, and I am

4o6 JUNOT

particular in supporting them. Would you have my daughter,
your betrothed bride, but not yet your wife, appear in a box
which all Paris knows to be yours ? And for what reason am
I to give up mine ? " " Because it is at the side, which is a bad
situation for the opera ; and it is, besides, so near to the or-
chestra that Mademoiselle Laurette's delicate ear will be so
offended she will not, for the next fortnight, be able to perform
herself."

" Come, come," said my mother, " there is no common sense
in all this. We will go and hear this second Cimarosa, who,
no doubt, will not equal his prototype ; but at all times a first
representation is a fine thing. Do you dine with us ? " "I
cannot," answered the general ; " I cannot even come to oflfer
you my arm, but I shall certainly have the honor of seeing you
at the opera."

On quitting my mother, the general went up to Albert's
apartment, and found him in his study, surrounded by those
peaceful labors which so usefully filled his time. He earnestly
recommended him not to lose sight of my mother and myself
throughout the evening. " I have endeavored," said he, " to
persuade your mother not to go out this evening, and especially
against going to the opera, but without any effect. There may
be trouble there, though there is no actual danger to fear ; but
I confess I should be better pleased if persons in whom I am
interested were at home. Your prudence, my dear Albert, guar-
antees your silence ; you understand my situation ; " and he
left him, promising an explanation of what he had just said
the next morning, if not that very night.

My brother came down to my mother, and the thoughtful-
ness of his air struck us immediately. " Ah ! " said my
mother, " what means all this ? Junot would prevent our going
to the opera; and here is another preparing to accompany us
there as if he were going to a funeral. It is worth while, cer-
tainly, to lay plans for gayety if they are to be executed in such
solemnity." My brother could not help laughing at this petu-
lant sally, and this restored my mother's good-humor. We
dined earlier than usual, and took our seats at the opera at
eight o'clock.

The boxes were already filled. The ladies were all elegantly
dressed. The First Consul had not yet taken his place. His

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 407

box was on the first tier to the left, between the columns which
separate the centre from the side boxes. My mother remarked
that the eyes of all persons in the pit, and of nearly all in the
boxes, were directed toward it. " And," said Albert, " observe
also the expression of interest and impatience on the part of the
audience."

" Bah ! " said my mother ; " though I am near-sighted, I can
see very well that it is but curiosity. We are always the same
people. Lately, at that fete of the Champ-de-Mars, when the
Abbe Sieyes " (she never used any other denomination) " wore
feathers like the canopy of the Holy Sacrament under which he
formerly carried the Host, did not everyone, and myself among
the first, strain our necks to obtain a better sight of him ? And
the chief of the band of sharpers, was not he also the point of
attraction for all eyes in the day of his power? Well, this man
is now master in his turn, and he is gazed at as the others have
been before him."

My brother persisted in saying that the First Consul was
loved, and that the others had only been feared. I was quite
of his opinion, and my mother only replied by shrugging her
shoulders. At this moment the door of the First Consul's box
opened, and he appeared with Duroc, Colonel Savary, and, I
think. Colonel Lemarrois. Scarcely was he perceived, when,
from all parts of the theatre, arose simultaneously plaudits so
unanimous that they appeared to constitute but one and the
same sound.

The stage was thought of no more ; all heads were turned
toward General Bonaparte, and a stifled hurrah accompanied
the clapping of hands and stamping of feet. He saluted the
audience with much smiling grace ; and it is well known that
the least smile enlivened his nattirally stern countenance, and
imparted a striking charm to it. The applause continuing, he
inclined his head two or three times without rising, but still
smiling.

My mother observed him through her glass, and did not
lose one of his movements. It was the first time she had seen
him since the great events of Brumaire, and he so entirely oc-
cupied her attention that General Junot came into the box with-
out her perceiving him. " Well, do you find him changed since
you saw him last ? " said he.

4o8 JUNOT

My mother turned hastily round, and was as much embar-
rassed as a young girl who should be asked why she looked out
of the window when the person who most interested her was
passing. We all laughed, and she joined us. Meanwhile, the
orchestra had recommenced its harmonious clamor, giving the
diapason to Laforet and Lainez, who both screamed in emula-
tion who should be best, or rather who should be worst; and
Mademoiselle Maillaret chimed in with lungs worthy of a
Roman lady of ancient times, making us regret that Madame
Chevalier no longer occupied the scene. My mother, whose
Italian ear could not support such discord, often turned toward
General Junot to speak of the enchanting songs of Italy, so
soft and so sweet.

At one of these moments Andoche slightly touched her arm,
and made her a sign to look to the First Consul's box. General
Bonaparte had his glass directed toward us, and as soon as he
perceived that my mother saw him, he made two or three incli-
nations in the form of a salutation: my mother returned the
attention by one movement of her head, which was probably not
very profound, for the First Consul, as will be shortly seen,
complained to my mother herself of her coldness toward him
this night. Junot would also have reproached her at the instant
had not one of the officers of the garrison of Paris tapped at the
door of the box to request him to come out. It was an adjutant
named Laborde, the most cunning and crafty of men. His fig-
ure and his manner were at this moment indescribable. Albert,
who now saw him for the first time, wished for a pencil to make
a sketch of him.

General Junot was absent but a few moments. When he
returned to the box, his countenance, which all day had been
serious, and even melancholy, had resumed in a moment its
gayety and openness, relieved of all the clouds which had veiled
it. He leaned toward my mother, and said, very low, not to
be heard in the next box :

" Look at the First Consul ; remark him well." " Why,
would you have me fix my eyes on him ? " said my mother ;
" it would be ridiculous." " No, no, it is quite natural. Look
at him with your glass ; then I will ask the same favor from
Mademoiselle Laurette." I took the opera-glass from my
brother, and looked at him in my turn. " Well," said the gen-

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 409

eral, "what do you observe?" "Truly," I replied, "I have
seen an admirable countenance; for I can conceive nothing
superior to the strength in repose, and greatness in quiescence,
which it indicates." " You find its expression, then, calm and
tranquil ? " " Perfectly. But why do you ask that qilestion ? "
said I, much astonished at the tone of emotion with which the
general had put this question.

He had not time to answer. One of his aides-de-camp came
to the little window of the box to call him. This time he was
absent longer, and on his return wore an air of joy ; his eyes
were directed toward the box of the First Consul with an ex-
pression which I could not understand. The First Consul was
buttoning the gray coat which he wore over the uniform of the
Consular Guard, and was preparing to leave the box. As soon
as this was perceived, the acclamations were renewed as vehe-
mently as on his entrance.

At this moment Junot, no longer able to conquer his emo-
tion, leaned upon the back of my chair and burst into tears.
" Calm yourself," said I, leaning toward him to conceal him
from my mother, who would certainly have exercised her wit
upon him. " Calm yourself, I entreat you. How can a senti-
ment altogether joyful produce such an effect upon you?"
" Ah ! " replied Junot, quite low, but with an expression I shall
never forget ; " he has narrowly escaped death ! the assassins
are at this moment arrested."

I could hardly restrain an exclamation, but Junot peremp-
torily silenced me. " Say nothing ; you will be overheard.
Let us hasten out," said he. He was so much agitated that
he gave me my mother's shawl, and her mine ; then, taking
my arm, made me hastily descend the staircase which led to
a private door opening upon the Rue de Louvois, reserved for
the authorities and the diplomatic body. My mother, conducted
by my brother, rejoined us at the glass door, and jestingly
asked the general if he meant to carry me off. Junot, though
cheerful, still had his mind too much fixed on important sub-
jects to reply to her raillery ; my thoughts were wholly
occupied by the few words he had said in the box, and the
silence and haste imposed upon me alarmed and seriously
affected me. Junot observed my paleness, and, fearing that
I should faint, ran into the street, though it rained in torrents.

4IO JUNOT

without listening to my mother, to find our carriages and
servants.

He met with his own first ; my mother did not perceive it
till she was already on the step, but immediately made an effort
to withdraw. Junot, reminding her of the rain and her health,
with a gentle pressure compelled her to get in ; then whisper-
ing to me, " All is right ; for heaven's sake compose yourself,
and say nothing! " called to his coachman, " Rue Sainte Croix."
Then, taking Albert's arm, they went together to seek my
mother's carriage, in which they followed, or rather preceded
us ; for we found them at home on our arrival.

My mother was throughout her life a sort of worshipper of
etiquette, and of the usages which should form the code of ele-
gance and good-breeding. If she ever failed in them herself,
it was from an excessive vivacity which she could not always
command ; not from ignorance of what was correct, or any in-
tention of neglecting it. Notwithstanding her acute and ami-
able disposition, she attached an extreme importance to these
trifles ; more so than can be conceived, without taking into con-
sideration the education she had received, and the seal of in-
delible prejudice which the circumstances of the times had im-
pressed upon them.

No sooner were we alone and in the carriage than she began
to dilate upon the dissatisfaction Junot had caused her.

" What is the meaning of all this hurrying backward and
forward, and in gala costume too? Who would ever have be-
lieved that I should give my arm to an officer in uniform to
leave the opera ? It is too ridiculous. I will tell him not to go
to the opera again in uniform. He will understand the pro-
priety of it ; he has sense and good taste. And then to leave us
hanging upon Albert's two arms, making him resemble a
pitcher with two handles ! Whoever saw a man of fashion give
his arm to two women at once? It was very well for Sikes's
first clerk to gallant the wife and daughter of his master to the
theatre in that manner. But a more serious fault which I have
to reproach him with is putting me into his carriage. It is to
be hoped no one of distinction was near. Did you observe
whether any of our acquaintance were in the corridor ? "

I had seen several persons whom I knew just before I got
into the carriage, but I should have been very unwilling to

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 411

increase her displeasure by telling her so ; I had not time, how-
ever, to answer before we stopped at our own door, and Albert
and Junot, already arrived, received us there. Junot led my
mother to her apartment, placed her on her sofa, surrounded
her by those thousand and one little things which are necessary
to the comfort of an invalid ; then seating himself vipon a stool
at her feet, and taking her hands in his, assumed a tone suitable
to the important event he was about to relate. He informed
her that Ceracchi and Arena — the one actuated by republican
fanaticism, the other by vengeance — had taken measures to
assassinate Bonaparte.

As General Junot proceeded in his account his voice became
stronger, his language more emphatic; every word was a
thought, and every thought came from his heart. In painting
Bonaparte such as he saw him daily — such, in fact, as he was
at that time — his masculine and sonorous voice assumed a tone
of sweetness : it was melody ; but when he proceeded to speak
of those men who, to satisfy their vengeance or their senseless
ambitions, would assassinate him who was at that moment
charged with the futurity of France, his voice failed, broken
by sobs, and, leaning his head upon my mother's pillow, he
wept like a child ; then, as if ashamed of his weakness, he went
to seat himself in the most obscure corner of the room.

My mother's heart was formed to understand such a heart
as Junot's ; and, open as she was to all the tender emotions,
she was violently agitated by the state in which she saw him.
In her turn she burst into tears. " How you love him ! " said
she.

" How I love him! " answered he, firmly joining his hands,
and raising his eyes to heaven. " Yes, I love him ! Judge,"
continued he, rising and promenading the room as he spoke —
" judge what I suffered a few days ago, when your daughter,
with an eloquence foreign to her sex and age, convinced us that
all barriers, all precautions, would fall before the poniard of an
assassin, provided he were but willing to sacrifice his own life.
But what more particularly hurt me was to hear her represent
this same assassin as becoming great by his crime."

My mother looked at me with a countenance of dissatisfac-
tion. Albert, who was sitting near the fire, said nothing ; but
I was sure he did not blame me.

412 JUNOT

" All that," said my mother, " comes of Laurette's speaking
upon subjects which are not in the province of women. I have
often told her how much that habit impaired her power of pleas-
ing; but she pays no attention to what I say on the subject. In
my time we only knew that the month of May was the month
of roses, and our ignorance did not make us the less agreeable.
For my scientific education, I never read any book but ' Te-
lemachus,' and yet, I believe, I can converse without being
tiresome. I hope, my dear child, that you will correct that
error."

" Ah, I hope not ! " answered General Junot. " You have
misunderstood me : it was not what Mademoiselle Laurette
said which gave me pain; but I immediately considered that
you were acquainted with Arena, that he often visited here ;
that you also knew Ceracchi ; that these men might have heard
your daughter speak in the same strain ; and that the soul and
the head of the latter especially was capable of replying to the
appeal which he might fancy to be thus made to him through
the lips of a young girl, and might in consequence develop a
few moments sooner his diabolical intentions. All this is very
ridiculous, very senseless, is it not ? " continued the general,
seeing my brother smile at the last words, " but I cannot help it ;
for the last week I have not, in fact, been master of my own
thoughts. You may judge if they were likely to be calmed by
the First Consul's resolution of going to the opera this even-
ing to expose himself to the poniards of assassins! We have
yet only taken Ceracchi, Arena, and, I believe, Demerville.^
They are just taken; but they were not the only conspirators.
It is pretended that England and the English committee are
concerned — always the English ! There are really only two
motives: one is the hatred of the family and of Corsica, the
other a fanaticism of liberty carried to madness. This is what
should alarm the friends of the First Consul. The most active
police has no power in such a case, and no means of preven-
tion."

" And what," said my mother, " does Fouche say to all
this?"

The general made no answer, but his forehead became wrin-
kled and his brows contracted ; he crossed his arms on his

^ A man of the name of Diana was an accomplice, and arrested the same evening.

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE

413

breast, and continued his walk some time in silence ; then said,
" Don't speak to me of that man."

His expression, even in silence, was of such a nature that it
stupefied us all. I have since learned the cause of this senti-
ment, which broke through all Junot's efforts to restrain it ; and
I felt what he must have suffered under such a conviction.

" No ; do not speak to me of that man, particularly to-day.
I have had a scene with him this morning ! If he had a heart —
but he knew better. If he had but red blood in his veins, we
should have cut each other's throats like brave men — like men,
at least. What nonsense to come and tell me that this affair
of Ceracchi was but child's play ! — to me, who for twelve days
past have followed him step by step, while he . . . But he
is in the right," he continued, with a bitter smile ; " he told me,
and I believe it is true, that he should know as much about it
in an hour. I am almost sure of the treason of "

Albert, who had risen, approached Junot and whispered to
him. The general made an inclination of his head, and pressed
my brother's hand ; they again exchanged a few words, and he
resumed :

" And what do you think he said upon this resolution of the
First Consul to go to the opera? He blamed him as I did;
but what was the motive? ' Because,' says he, 'it is an am-
bush.' You suppose, no doubt, that this deprecated ambush
was for the First Consul? No such thing; it was for these
honest rascals, whose necks I would wring as willingly as a
sparrow's ^ and with no more scruple, after what I have learned
of them, and the honorable function which I find them exercis-
ing. He made me an oration, which I believe was taken from
his collection of homilies, by which he proposed to prove that
the -affair might be prevented going to this length. As I had
already had a very warm discussion upon the same subject
with a personage whom the First Consul will know some day
for what he really is (and the time is happily not far distant),
and as I knew that this personage and Fouche had been emu-
lating each other in their interference in this affair, I was de-
sirous that my way of thinking should be equally known to both

* T make my husband speak here in which, however, when so disposed, he

the language he used in familiar inter- could do as well as many others, if not

course, when sufficiently excited to better,
neglect to speak in a more formal style;

414

JUNOT

of them. I therefore obHged Fouche to explain himself clear-
ly, and to tell me that it was wrongs to lead on these men to the
moment of executing their design, since it could be prevented.
That was his opinion.

" ' And thus,' said I, ' you would replace in society two men
who have evidently conspired against the chief of the State,
and that not to force him to resign his authority, not to remove
him from it, but to murder him for the satisfaction of their own
passions. Do you believe that Ceracchi — content to die if, in
sacrificing himself, he could kill the First Consul ; putting him
to death to glut an inordinate passion, in obedience to a species
of monomania — do you believe that this madman will be cured
by a simple admonition, or by an act of generosity? No; he
must kill the man, whom he looks upon as a tyrant, and whom
he will never be induced to see in any other light. Or do you
believe that Arena, during so many years the enemy of General
Bonaparte, will abjure his hatred against the First Consul be-
cause the latter has taken up the character of Augustus ? No.
It is his death they desire. Listen to the expression of Ceracchi
in buying a poniard : " I should like better a good knife that
does not shut, and the blade solid and sure, which will not fail
in the hand ! " To leave a determined assassin like this to his
blood-thirsty contrivances, what is it but to insure to-morrow
the full execution of the project you have averted to-day?

" ' This is not my first knowledge of the Arenas. The First
Consul, who is thoroughly good-hearted, is willing to forget
the ev-1 they have always been forward to do him. But I have
not so forgiving a soul. I remember his arrest in the South.^
I have heard the particulars of the eighteenth Brumaire,* and
am completely acquainted with all the circumstances of the
present affair.^ Certainly I trembled to see the First Consul
go to face death, which, notwithstanding all our cares, he might

' When Bonaparte was arrested by
command of Salicetti, the Adjutant-
General Arena, the Commissary Den-
niee, and the Commandant of Gendar-
merie Vervain, were the persons in-
trusted with the execution of the order.

* It is Junot who speaks: he was
convinced that the representative Arena,
elder brother of the conspirator (they
must not be confounded), had attempt-
ed to assassinate General Bonaparte
at St. Cloud. I do not believe it; he
hated Bonaparte, but would not have
assassinated him.

'' The plan of the conspirators was to
stab the First Consul as he came out of
his box, which, as I have before ob-
served, was on the left between the
columns. At this period the First Con-
sul went in and out by the general en-
trance. The gallery and the staircase
leading to the Rue de Louvois were
always crowded with people to see him
pass." The assassins were to strike as
he stepped out of the box. Colonel
Savary behaved nobly on this occasion;
he would leave the box first, though he
was not the person appointed to do so.

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 415

encounter; but, on the other hand, I saw but this means of
cutting through the net they had cast around him. His exist-
ence would be rendered miserable supposing it were preserved.
There would be daily new conspiracies — a hydra constantly re-
viving.'

" When Fouche," continued Junot, " found that I saw
through him, notwithstanding his cunning, he had recourse
to the sentiments of humanity. He, Fouche ! He harangued
me in the style of a homily, and all this with a head that one
would suppose he had stolen from a skeleton. Oh, what a
man ! And the First Consul will place faith in his words !
At length we shall see the conclusion of this affair, which he
and another called child's play — reason in all things."

My mother listened attentively, and I remarked that during
General Junot's long discourse she and my brother often in-
terchanged signs of acquiescence. When he had ceased
speaking, she told him how just she considered his observa-
tions upon the Arenas to be. " They nourish hatred in their
hearts," said she — ** a hatred which may be dated long pre-
viously to the eighteenth Brumaire, or to the events of Italy.
I know not from what it arises, but I am sure that it exists.
One thing that surprises me is, that Napoleon, Lucien, and
Joseph are the sole objects of this hatred ; and I believe they
return it, though, to say the truth, I have only conjectures
respecting their sentiments, while I have proofs of the hatred
of the Arenas toward them. With respect to Ceracchi, noth-
ing you could say of him would surprise me. Permon, who
knew him in Italy, introduced him to me at a ball at M. Dela-
noue's. Since then I have sometimes seen him at Madame
Magimelli's, at Auteuil ; I acknowledge that his exaggerated
notions have made me tremble, yet his distaste of life and his
profound melancholy rendered him interesting."

I had also seen this Ceracchi, and witnessed some of his
ebullitions of enthusiastic republicanism at Madame Magi-
melli's, and I confess he had not produced upon my mind the
same disagreeable impressions that he had upon my mother.
I pitied him warmly, for it was impossible not to perceive that
his excessive sensibility must render him miserable.

The conversation now returned to the Arenas ; my mother
was much affected by this arrest. Her native country was al-

4i6 JUNOT

ways dear to her heart, and Arena was a fellow-countryman.
Jtinot put several questions to her respecting the conduct of
the brothers for some years past at Paris. My mother commu-
nicated all that she knew on this subject, and it was but little,
because, of all the Corsicans at Paris, the Arenas were those
who visited her the least frequently.

This conversation, however, brought to my mother's recol-
lection a rather remarkable one which passed between her
, and Pepe Arena on the seventeenth Brumaire, the eve of the
famous eighteenth. On that day we were visited by several
Corsican representatives, whom we had not seen for some
time before, and among them Pepe Arena. He came in the
morning. His countenance was full of care, and she remarked
it to him. He smiled, but his smile was forced. He spoke
to her of Corsica, of my grandmother and my uncles, then sud-
denly inquired if she had seen Lucien lately. My mother an-
swered that she saw him nearly every day, which was true,
and, as she had much friendship for the young tribune of the
people, she spoke of the high reputation he had already ac-
quired as an orator : my brother-in-law, who, as we have seen,
was his intimate friend, at that time frequently brought us the
journals which reported the speeches (almost always extem-
pore) which he pronounced in the Council of Five Hundred.
Some of these improvisations contained admirable strokes of
eloquence. " I do not always agree in opinion with him,"
said my mother, " but I do not, therefore, the less esteem his
talents and his character."

" He is very young to wish to direct us," said Arena, with
an expression of some bitterness (Lucien was, in fact, the
youngest member of the Council of Five Hundred). " But
it seems to me that your opinions are the same," replied my
mother ; " what, then, signifies the age of a man, provided he
has ability? His brother has not waited to be forty years old
to gain battles." " Ah, ah ! you are reconciled with General
Bonaparte. He has been, then, to beg pardon, for, faith, he
could do no less." " We are not now discussing the subject
of pardon or offences," said my mother, a little displeased.
" I was speaking of Lucien and the glory of his brother." ®

• One of the most curious effects of her presence always offended her. She
my mother's relations with Napoleon only spoke of her own displeasure with
was that anything said against him in him to her most intimate friends.

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 417

At the moment when Pepe was about to reply someone
entered, and the conversation instantly ceased. Arena soon
after took up his hat to depart ; my mother invited him to
dine, which he declined, pleading an engagement in the coun-
try. My mother told him, laughing, that he was offended,
which he denied ; but she afterward told us that from that mo-
ment she was convinced that Lucien, and whoever bore the
name of Bonaparte, was held in great dislike by Arena.

In the first year of the consulate one of those adventures
happened to me which sometimes influence the whole life of
an individual, by making an entire change in the character of
some of its attributes. The impression made upon my mind
by the terrors of the night I am going to describe was so great
that I lost for a time every vestige of courage ; and if its effects
have at length been sufficiently overcome to prevent me from
making myself ridiculous, I have rather to thank the efforts
of my reason for the remedy than the simple operation of time.

My mother was recovering from a malady as alarming as
it was painful — an abscess of the head, caused by a severe
blow against a marble mantelpiece. During the thirteen days
in which the humor was forming, my poor mother's suffer-
ings were distracting, and without a moment's respite. For-
tunately it found a vent by the ear ; for a long time afterward
the smallest unusual noise produced headaches so violent that
they were at first attributed to tic-douloureux. Her convales-
cence was very tedious, and demanded the utmost care. The
doctors particularly ordered that her sleep should be prolonged
as much as possible, and that she should be kept perfectly quiet.

My brother was in the habit of spending the dccadi in the
country, and not returning home till the following morning.
In consequence of some business he was transacting for a
friend, he had, on the night I am speaking of, the temporary
custody of a large sum of money, and both these circumstances
were known to a porter whom he had been long in the habit of
employing in various commissions. This man had carried
home for my brother a chest clamped with iron, and secured
by a capital lock ; its contents were valuable, and so heavy
that the man was much fatigued by his exertions, and Albert
offered him a glass of wine, saying : " Drink, my poor fellow,
it will do you good, for you are terribly hot."
27

4i8 JUNOT

The porter, shaking his head, observed, " Oh, I am accus-
tomed to act the beast of burden ; you could not have carried
half as much." My brother, whose cheerful and sociable tem-
per made him always ready with a jest, answered him, laughing,
" But I have carried double, though." At first the man started
and exclaimed, " It is impossible ! " but presently added, " Oh,
I understand ! " and was about to depart, when he was ordered
to fetch my brother's cabriolet for his excursion to Sainte
Mande.

When, however, the cabriolet was at the door, and the porter,
who by his habits of employment in the family knew that
Albert would not return till the next morning, had departed,
the plan was changed and the carriage remained in conse-
quence of my mother's unwillingness to part with my brother.
The day passed happily, and my mother went to bed at her
usual hour, and in good spirits.

I remained by her side till she was asleep, and when con-
vinced by the regularity of her respiration that she was so, I
left her about midnight, and repaired to my own apartment,
separated from that of my mother only by a door, which I
left ajar. I then took up a book, being unwilling to retire to
my bed till quite satisfied that my mother's sleep would be
calm. The silence of night now enveloped the city, only
broken at intervals by the rapid passage of a carriage, or a dis-
tant murmur, which served to show that some few individuals
were still awake ; these sounds, however, were more and more
rarely heard, till at length the quiet in the street became as
complete as that which reigned in my own apartment.

By a small timepiece on my little table I observed that it
now wanted but a quarter to one. My mother had then been
an hour asleep, and I concluded that I might safely lie down ;
but in preparing to do so I found myself hungry, and began to
look around for my supper. The habit of sitting up a great part
of the night had obliged me to supply the want of rest with an
extra meal, and some fruit with bread or cake was generally
left in my room for this purpose. Sometimes, however, this
was forgotten both by the servants and myself, and on such
occasions I seldom slept well. This night I looked in vain
for my usual refreshment, but the key of the dining-room lay
on my table.

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 419

The kitchen was on the basement, the offices of the domes-
tic estabHshment on the ground floor, my mother's apartments
and mine on the first floor, my brother's on the second, and the
sleeping-rooms of the servants, not one of whom was lodged
below us, all in the attic story. The rooms surrounded the
staircase, and were connected by a gallery.

On seeing the dining-room key, which was always deposited
in my room when the apartments were closed for the night,
I remembered that in the bufifet I should find something to
eat, and, accordingly, with as little noise as possible, fearing
that I might wake my mother, I opened my own door and
crossed the landing-place to that of the dining-room. There
I found both strawberries and bread, and, helping myself, I
was about to sit down at the dining-table to eat them, but
recollecting that my mother might awake and be alarmed if
she called without receiving an answer, I returned with my
supper to my own room. Having bolted my door rather from
habit than prudence, I sat down with a good appetite and com-
menced with alacrity to make an inroad upon the excellent
strawberries.

I had long been mistress of the establishment, and one of
the rules of good housekeeping which I had found the most
difficult in enforcing had always been the retirement of the ser-
vants for the night at the same time with ourselves. My in-
structions were that by twelve o'clock everyone in the house
should be in bed ; but there were certain parties at dominoes
and cards which sometimes kept them up till two o'clock in
the morning, and I had threatened and was determined to pun-
ish the next infraction of my rule which I should detect.

I had been at supper about ten minutes when the perfect
quiet of the house was interrupted by a noise below stairs.
My suspicions were immediately awakened and the idea that
my imperial will was again disobeyed put me much out of
humor. While I was grumbling and eating my suspicions
were changed to conviction ; the noise of footsteps, regular,
light, and slow, as those of persons fearing to be heard, dis-
tinctly reached my ear. I was sure that some persons were
coming up the first flight of stone stairs.

Determined to confront them in the very act, I noiselessly
approached the door of my room which opened upon the stairs,

420 JUNOT

and was slowly and carefully withdrawing the bolts, saying to
myself, " I shall not this time be told that you never sit up after
midnight ; it is now one by my timepiece " ; but wishing to
make quite sure of my object, I held the second bolt in my
hand to wait till the whole procession, shoes in hand, as I
supposed, should be in the act of passing the door. At this
moment a noise, which I could compare to nothing but a stroke
upon a great drum, saluted my ears, and made me start. It
came from my mother's bath, which stood at one corner of the
landing.

Still more provoked by this noise, which I feared would
wake my mother, I was about to throw open the door, when
I suddenly reflected that the servants, who knew where the
bath was, would certainly not have suffered themselves to be
betrayed by it. But if it were not they, who could it be?
This uncertainty made my heart beat, and so shook my frame
that I was obliged to lean against the door-post for support,
while I instinctively replaced the bolts I had so imprudently
withdrawn. During this interval the persons were mounting
the second staircase ; this being of wood, I could hear them
much more distinctly than before, and was satisfied that their
shoes were much stouter and more clumsy than those of any
of our household. What was I to do? Should I wake my
mother? The consequence would certainly be a frightful in-
crease of her illness. I had not, it is true, any certainty that
the nocturnal intruders were banditti, but at that time the most
horrible assassinations were common, not only in the neighbor-
hood of the capital, but in Paris itself. These reflections
passed through my mind much quicker than I can write them,
but brought no counsel that promised relief from my painful
state of apprehension.

I listened long and anxiously for some further noise, but
all w^as quiet ; it was a false alarm, thought I, and was certainly
the servants ; I began to breathe more freely, and looked at
my timepiece, thinking that an hour at least had passed while
I was upon the watch ; how much was I surprised to find that
tlie hand had only advanced ten minutes ! As all was quiet,
I proposed to finish my supper and go to bed, but I trembled,
and could scarcely swallow ; however, I ate my strawberries,
and had the last spoonful in my hand, when a very distinct

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 421

creaking and the repressed sounds of several footsteps proved
that the persons I had before heard were now coming down
the second staircase. The noise was not produced by an
alarmed imagination — it was real ; persons were coming down-
stairs with precaution, but certainly coming down ; and I could
no longer flatter myself that it was the servants.

On reaching the landing-place between my door and that
of the dining-room, two persons sat down on the steps of the
staircase and began to converse in an undertone. Trembling
from head to foot, I, however, again approached the door,
and, listening, heard a few broken sentences, from which I
gathered that they believed Albert to be in the country ; some-
thing, too, I heard of the impenetrable locks of La Dru, two
of which fastened his door, and something of its being useless
to break into my mother's room. Beyond this I could only
collect the broken words — " late " — " daybreak " — " mother "
— " nothing here " — " upstairs " — " the young one's door."
Something was said in reply, and the answer, " Well, let us
try ! " accompanied by the sound of several pieces of iron,
gently laid down upon the stone, completed my terror. I
considered a moment whether I had not forgotten to shut the
dining-room door, by which an entry would be offered to the
whole suite of apartments.

I looked round, and the sight of the key lying upon my
table just afforded me presence of mind enough to determine
how to act ; it was manifest they were endeavoring to open
that door; its resistance could not be long. To wake my
mother was now indispensable, and I did so with all the pre-
caution I was capable of. But I could not secure her against
alarm ; and I had no sooner pronounced the word " thieves,"
than with her usual precipitation she seized the three bell-pulls
which were suspended by her bed, and pulled them all to-
gether, screaming at the same time with all her strength.

" Oh, recollect Albert ! You will be his death ! " I exclaimed,
convinced that the first sound of her bell would bring him out
quite unprepared to meet the attack of assassins ; but while I
was making these reflections, and endeavoring to hush her
screams, I heard the villains run off, and from the continued
sound of hurried steps on the stairs felt convinced that some
of them had been left to pursue their attempts upon my

422 JUNOT

brother's patent locks, while the two had been consulting near
my door upon their ulterior operations.

The first sound of the bell had alarmed them, and they
were now in hasty retreat. I ran to my window, which over-
looked our court, and while I screamed loudly for help, to dis-
turb the coachman and neighbors, saw the last two of the
thieves jumping from our wall into the great timber-yard then
in the Rue Joubert, and which separated our house from that
of M. de Caulaincourt.

Meanwhile my mother continued to ring and call, and the
family were soon moving; my brother, on opening his door,
found a center-bit introduced just below the first bolt, and some
progress already made in working it ; but the landing before
my door was a perfect arsenal ; there lay two more center-bits,
a crowbar, several iron hooks to serve for picklocks, and two
or three keys. My brother put on his greatcoat, and went
out to alarm the police. The gate of the timber-yard was
found open, and a ladder against our wall ; but no further trace
of the robbers was discovered. It was morning when. he re-
turned ; he found my mother better than could be expected,
but distracted on my account. I had received a shock, the
immediate effect of which was terrible, and threatened to be
lasting.

I was seized with a fever, which brought on delirium ; the
impression of the thieves on the landing was always vividly
before me, and the idea that they were murdering me, and
that my poor mother would wake in the midst of assassins,
covered with the blood of her child, was for a length of time
never absent from my mind. They feared for my life, or at
least for my reason. I was conducted from place to place,
every effort to divert me was tried, and my own exertions
assisting the affectionate attentions of those around me, my
health improved; and though for a long time I was the great-
est coward imaginable, and have always continued unreason-
ably timid, I am now able to rally my thoughts, and to exert
some presence of mind, even in circumstances of actual danger.

" There, sire," said I to the Emperor, on concluding this
history (it was in the year 1806), " is the true cause of my
cowardice which you were inquiring about. I am not now
so foolish as to be unable, like a child of six years old, to remain

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 423

for a moment in the dark; but my nervous system continues
painfully affected by tlie consequences of this fright. Neither
reason nor any effort of mind can remove the impression
which the idea of what would have been the consequence had
I remained in the dining-room to eat my strawberries has
produced." And though six years had elapsed since that ter-
rible night, the Emperor observed me turn pale, and said so.

" I assure your Majesty that the same impression has often
happened to me after this event, when I have only had occa-
sion to cross that fearful landing-place." " It is strange," said
the Emperor, and began to pace the room.

The Emperor, after continuing his walk some time, and
when other recollections had superseded in my mind the his-
tory I had related, suddenly stopped opposite to me, and said,
" Has not this adventure given you a great antipathy to straw-
berries? "

For a few seconds I made no answer, and then said, " No,
sire ; I am, on the contrary, passionately fond of them."
" That is the nature of women," said he ; " danger attracts
them."

Lucien came to see us some days after the discovery of
Arena and Ceracchi's conspiracy; he was thoughtful, and did
not conceal that the repeated attempts upon his brother's life
caused him serious uneasiness. This was the third in the
course of one year : the first was on the road to Malmaison ;
the second in the Tuileries. " How," said he, " can such
strokes be averted? Jacques Clement, Ravaillac, Damiens,
Jean Chatel ^ — all these men executed their projects, because,
in forming them, they held their own lives as nothing. If
Ceracchi had been alone, as was his original intention, my
brother had been no more ; but he thought, by taking asso-
ciates, to make his success more certain ; he deceived himself."
" But," observed my mother, " your reflections are alarming ;
for how, then, can your brother be protected ? " " He only
can protect himself," replied Lucien. " He is the son of the
Revolution ; he must march in the principles it has conse-
crated ; above all things, he must forbear any attempt against
the liberty of the citizens. His route is marked out ; he must

^Clement assassinated Henry III; ed the life of Louis XV, and Chatel
Ravaillac, Henry IV; Damiens attempt- or Chastel attempted that of Henry IV.

424 JUNOT

follow it, or he is lost, and we are lost with him. My brother
knows me, and Junot and all who are about him know that I
never cease to recall to his mind, with all the energy of a
French and free soul, the solemn engagements which he con-
tracted with the nation of the nineteenth Brumaire, and of
which I am the guarantee."

Then, turning toward Junot, he added : " You remember
the conversation you heard four days ago? Well, I shall
always speak thus, and no fear will make me deviate from
my path. If the men who surround my brother in the gov-
ernment choose to assist him in measures oppressive to the
country, I shall not increase their number ; and on the last day
of the liberty of the republic I shall go and seek another
country."

This conversation proves that Lucien was bent on oppos-
ing Napoleon's plans for a centralization of power. That
which Junot had heard at Malmaison was the discussion of
many regulations relating to the prefects which Lucien would
not authorize, considering them too arbitrary. To resist
Napoleon was to insure his revenge. Lucien was indeed his
brother, but the determination of his character was in all things
predominant ; and this conversation, together with Lucien's
perseverance in reminding his brother of his promise of the
nineteenth Brumaire, explained to me his embassy to Spain,
which took place a few weeks afterward.

Already the Consul of the year IX was contrasted with
the Consul of the year VIII — the General Bonaparte of Tou-
lon and Italy, founding republics, daughters of France, with
the General Bonaparte seeking to concentrate all the powers
of the State in his own person. Lucien might hear in my
mother's salon reflections made with a smile, in an undertone,
by persons who had not faith enough in republican vocations to
believe that Bonaparte would support the system he announced
on the nineteenth Brumaire. Many were even simple enough
to speak of General Monk and Charles II. Lucien heard all
this and similar language from various quarters, and he wished
to prevent, not the evil only, but the suspicion of it.

When tranquillity was restored by the arrest of the other
conspirators (Topino-Lebrun, Demerville, etc.), the ceremony
of my marriage was hastened. The First Consul had said to

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 425

Junot, " Do you know that your marriage has been held by
a very slender thread, my poor Junot ? For I believe if these
rascals had killed me, the alliance with you would have been
little cared for." Bonaparte would not have uttered such a
sentiment three or four years before ; but on attaining absolute
power he took up an idea which was perhaps the cause of his
ruin, but to which he always attached great importance, that
men are governed and led by motives of interest or fear.

On October 27 all the family of Junot arrived at Paris,
and were presented to my mother; and never till this day had
I duly appreciated the virtues of his heart. Sensible of the
wide difference which a Parisian education and constant inter-
course with the best society of Paris made between our man-
ners and those of his mother and sister, who knew nothing
beyond the towns of Burgundy, he dreaded to perceive in me
a contemptuous ridicule, wdiich would have rendered him mis-
erable ; and never shall I forget the expression of tenderness
and respect with which he presented his mother to mine, and
the action which seemed to entreat, though he never used the
words, that I would be a daughter to his parents. He had no
reason to fear. They were too good and too respectable not
to demand and to secure my duty and love.

The next day the marriage contract was signed, and it was
not till that moment that I learned that my brother, from his
own means, endowed me with 60,000 francs, in satisfaction,
as the marriage settlement expressed it, of my claims on the
paternal inheritance. My claims ! when we all knew that
none of my father's property ever had been or ever would be
realized ; the greater part of it was in the English funds ; but
it would not have been agreeable to General Junot to receive
my dower as a gift from my brother, and therefore this clause
Vv'as introduced. Fifty thousand francs more were added by
M. Lequien de Bois-Cressy, an old friend of my father, and who
M'as to be my mother's second husband ; he gave me his dower
as his future step-daughter, secured upon an estate in Brittany.
He was rich and liberal; I was not, therefore, surprised at this
present ; but that my brother, who, from the proceeds of his
own industry, had maintained my mother's house, and fur-
nished my expensive education, should now act so gener-
ously, was even more than my gratitude could express ; nor

426 JUNOT

was this lessened by the affectionate terms in which he replied
to my insufficient thanks.

" Do not speak thus," said he, embracing me with that fra-
ternal tenderness which he had always shown me ; " do you
not know that my mother and yourself are the sole objects of
my affection and of my happiness ? I live only for you. It is,
then, quite natural that the produce of my labors should be em-
ployed for your benefit. A great and an unhoped-for marriage
is offered you ; the money is my own, and how could I dispose
of it better than in making your fortune some way proportion-
ate to the establishment you are about to form ? "

A circumstance arising out of this will show the First Con-
sul's prodigious memory, even in matters of the smallest im-
portance to himself. The following day, October 29, Junot,
accompanied by my brother as my nearest relation, attended
at the Tuileries for the signature of the marriage contract.
The First Consul received my brother with great kindness,
questioned him upon his prospects and his intentions, spoke
of my mother with friendship, and of me with an interest which
affected me much when Albert repeated the conversation.

But for the singular part of the interview : he desired the
contract to be read to him. When the 60,000 francs from
my paternal inheritance were named, he made a movement
indicative of surprise, and another, though less marked, at the
mention of the 50,000 francs of M. de Bois-Cressy, but made
no remark upon either. When the reading was completed,
he took my brother by the arm, led him to the recess of a
window, and said to him, " Permon, I remember that when
your father died he left nothing. At that period I visited
your mother daily, and you no doubt know," added he, with
an embarrassed air, " that at the same time I was desirous of
marrying you to my sister, Madame Leclerc, and of arrang-
ing the future marriage of Mademoiselle Loulou with that
mauvais sujct, my brother Jerome." (He did not speak of the
principal marriage he planned at that period !) " Well, Ma-
dame Permon then told me that her husband left nothing.
What, then, does this mean ? "

Albert repeated to the First Consul what he had already
said to me, entreating him not to mention it. Napoleon
looked at him with an indefinable expression, and said, " You

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 427

are a generous fellow, my dear Permon ; you are a generous
fellow ; I shall take care of you. But you allow yourself to be
forgotten. Why do you never come to the Tuileries? Your
brother-in-law will now remind you of me, and will also remind
me of you." Accordingly, a few days afterward, Junot solic-
ited for Albert a situation in which he might give proofs of his
attachment to the cause of the ninth of November, and the
First Consul appointed him to one of the three then existing
posts of commissary-general of the police of France.

The day preceding my marriage, a circumstance at once
trifling and serious had nearly caused its rupture. A friend
of Junot's, M. Duquesnoy, was mayor of the seventh arron-
dissement ; the general, as commandant of Paris, not belong-
ing more to one mayoralty than another, wished his marriage
to be performed before M. Duquesnoy ; and he inquired of
my mother whether she supposed it would make any differ-
ence to me. My mother replied that she was herself perfectly
willing, and did not believe that I should be otherwise, but
that she would send for me to answer for myself. On General
Junot's putting his request to me, I answered, that in this, as
in everything else, my mother was mistress of my actions on
so solemn a day. I only observed that the distance to the
mayoralty of M. Duquesnoy in the Rue de Jouy, Quartier
Saint Antoine, was long, and that I should not fear fatiguing
my mother if it were no farther o& than our Church of St.
Louis, which, being at the extremity of the Rue Thiroux,
was directly opposite our house. I did not at that moment
remark General Junot's astonishment; but, having embraced
my mother, left the room.

I was no sooner gone than the general asked my mother
if I expected to be married at church.

" To be married at church ! " she cried ; " where, then,
would you have her expect to be married? Before your
friend with the scarf, I suppose? But, my dear boy, you
have surely lost your wits. How could you entertain the
idea that not my daughter only, but myself and her brother,
could consent to a purely civil marriage? As for Laurette,
I promise you she is capable of thanking you for your inten-
tions if you should propose this to her! " General Junot walked
about much agitated. " Will you permit me to speak upon

428 JUNOT

the subject to Mademoiselle Laurette in private? Situated
as we now are, there can be no objection to my request."

My mother shrugged her shoulders. " You know not what
you are talking of," said she ; " until you become her husband,
you are but a stranger, and what you wish to say is not likely
to make her your friend : why do you want to make a secret
of it? Why am I not to be present?" "Because calmness
is necessary in treating of such a matter ; but I can speak to
Mademoiselle Laurette here, with the door of your chamber
open,"

I was called : nothing could exceed my astonishment, my
grief I may say, in hearing this strange proposition. I did
not conceal it : the general replied that, situated as he was,
it was impossible he could be married at church, " to make
a show of myself," added he ; " for you could not prevent
all the beggars and low people of the Chaussee d'Antin from
surrounding the house, and even filling the church. And I
am to appear in uniform amid such a crowd ! "

" I do not know," I answered, " what you should find dis-
agreeable in being seen to perform an act which is the duty
of every Christian (I am not speaking as a devotee), in enter-
ing upon the engagements which we propose to take upon
ourselves to-morrow. The very Pagans sought the sanction
of this act, the most important of their lives, in the temples of
their gods. The Turks only are content with the Cadi, and
I hope it is not from them you have taken arguments in sup-
port of your extraordinary proposition." " I am much hurt
by your obstinacy," said Junot ; " how can you, with your
sense, persist in a formality which your education ought to
have taught you to consider a nullity ? "

" I am very young, general, to discuss so serious a question.
I understand nothing of the controversy, except that I was
born in the Christian religion, and that, very certainly, I shall
not stir a step from this house if it be not to go where my duty
calls me. Be assured, general, that notwithstanding the ad-
vanced state of the preparations our marriage will not take
place unless the Church shall bless it."

I stood up to go away. The general took my hand, and
saw that my eyes were full of tears. He stamped his foot with
violence, and let slip a very unusual expression. " Junot !

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 429

Junot! " cried my mother from her chamber, where she heard
all that passed — "Junot! is that proper language to use?"

'' You afflict me greatly," said the general. " It distresses me
to give you pain; but, after all, this is a mere childish whim
on your part, which you persist in because you have been told
to do so; while to me it is a matter of serious consequence.
Do you know that it is nothing less than a confession of
faith?"

" And suppose it is ? " said I ; " what was the religion of
your fathers? You have been baptized, you have been con-
firmed, you have received your first communion, you have con-
fessed : here, then, are four sacraments of which you have par-
taken, and when that of marriage comes in its course, sud-
denly you turn renegade, apostate, perhaps ! No, no, general,
it must not be."

Having said this I went to my mother's room, where I found
my brother. Junot followed me, and addressing himself to
Albert, submitted to him the question which caused this debate ;
he was in despair; what I insisted upon was of no importance
whatever, he said, and would seriously compromise him.
" Well ! " said I, standing up, " I can say no more upon the sub-
ject, of which I ought never to have permitted the discussion. I
only regret that General Junot should for a moment have be-
lieved that my principles would suffer me to accede to the prop-
osition he had this morning made."

I retired to my chamber, and was just then informed that
Mademoiselle L'Olive and Mademoiselle de Beuvry were in the
salon, and that they had brought in two coaches the articles
which composed my trousseau and corbeille; ^ the two baskets
which were to contain them followed on a truck — that of the
trousseau, in particular, was so large that no coach could con-
tain it.

I sent to request my brother's presence, and he came to me
immediately. " My dear Albert," said I to him, " this affair will
become serious if the intervention of your friendship and excel-
lent sense does not prevent it. Not that I request your ad-
vice, because my resolution is irrevocably taken, and if General
Junot is equally determined a rupture is inevitable ; to you,

* We have no words exactly synony- that part of it which is furnished by the
mous with these; both signify tlie bridal bride's family. The " corbeille " is the
paraphernalia. The " trousseau " is bridegroom's present. — Translator.

430 JUNOT

therefore, I refer to render it as little as possible painful to our
poor mother. The blow will be terrible to her."

Albert took my two hands in his and embraced me tenderly,
wiping away my tears, which flowed abundantly. He walked
up and down the room in silent meditation, then stopped some
time before the window ; my maid, Josephine, came to require
my attendance in my mother's room. " I cannot go," said I to
Albert ; and I begged him to go to my mother, whose apart-
ment was only separated from mine by a very small drawing-
room, which had no door toward my chamber. He went, and I
had scarcely been ten minutes alone when my mother's room
door opened, and she came to me. " My child," she said, " here
is one who does not ask your pardon, which, nevertheless, I
hope you will grant."

Those who were well acquainted with General Junot know
how much the expression of his countenance varied when he
was particularly agitated. At this moment he was scarcely rec-
ognizable ; he advanced behind my mother, leaning on Albert's
arm, changing color so rapidly that he appeared to be ill.
" Your brother," said he, " has been showing me how much I
have distressed you; he will now explain to you that I am
not so much to blame as you may suppose ; and if you will
take into consideration the character of a soldier full of honor
and frankness, but who could not entertain the same ideas with
you upon the subject we have been discussing, you will be in-
dulgent and pardon me."

My brother then affectionately taking my hand, and hold-
ing his other hand to Junot, said to me : " Our friend has
been explaining to me that being the commandant of Paris,
and invested with the confidence of the First Consul, he objects
to appearing in open day on an occasion so solemn as his mar-
riage, to perform in a church a sacred act of religion, because,
on account of his political position, it would make him a sort
of spectacle to the whole town. You know me, my sister;
you know that my heart is devoted to you and to honor. Well,
after what he has said, I have engaged to persuade you
to comply with his wishes. The general does not desire to
wound any of your religious convictions ; he acknowledges
that you are right in requiring the religious ceremony, but
he requests that it may take place at night. I believe that

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 431

this mutual concession will remove all obstacles on both
sides."

I looked at my mother, and receiving- a sign of approbation
from her, had nothing further to object except my dislike to a
nocturnal ceremony. It recalled those days of terror when the
bridal pair received by stealth the benediction which the priest
accorded at the risk of his life. It was necessary, however, to
be reasonable ; and I consented, as my mother and brother ap-
proved it, that the ceremony should take place in the manner
proposed.

I afterward learned that this sudden opposition was caused
by the First Consul. This may appear extraordinary to those
who remember that two years afterward he signed the Con-
cordat ; but all fruits do not ripen in one season. He had just
escaped from the dagger of a man who accused him of attempt-
ing to overturn the institutions of republicanism, and he was not
willing that the commandant of Paris, known to possess his
entire confidence, should perform a public act which might
point to a new system of action on the part of his patron. He
therefore particularly required of Junot that he should only go
to church at night, supposing the family to insist upon the re-
ligious ceremony. Junot, in his zeal to obey, exceeded his in-
structions. His religious notions — having passed his youth in
an army where none such existed — were not those of incredu-
lity, but of perfect indifference, and he had no suspicion of the
effect his proposition would have upon me ; in the first instance,
then, he did not even speak of a nocturnal marriage, which in
fact supplied all the conditions absolutely required by either
party.

" At length, then," said my mother, when she had heard me
pronounce my consent, " this grand affair is settled " ; and
turning to Junot, she added : " It has been all your fault.
Who would ever have thought of coming on the eve of mar-
riage to say ' I will have nothing to do with the Church ? '
Come, fall on your knees, and beg pardon of your betrothed.
Right. Now give him your hand, or rather your cheek, in
recompense of that graceful act of submission. It is the last ;
to-morrow he will be your master. But what now, is it not all
settled?"

The fact was that this nocturnal ceremony, which did not

432 JUNOT

please me at all, had moreover the inconvenience that it would
be unaccompanied by a wedding mass ; I whispered this new
objection to the general, and it was presently removed by the
promise that it should take place at twelve o'clock, the hour of
midnight mass. My mother laughed on overhearing this dis-
cussion. " And now that we are all at length agreed," said
she, " do me the favor, monsieur my son-in-law, to take your
leave for the present; I must show the young lady her trous-
seau, and hear her opinion of my taste ; we shall afterward both
sit in judgment upon yours."

On entering the salon, though it was large, I found m)^self
much in the situation of Noah's dove, without a place of rest
for my foot. From an immense basket, or rather portman-
teau, of rose-colored gros de Naples, embroidered with black
chenille, made in the shape of a sarcophagus bearing my cipher,
an innumerable quantity of small packets, tied with pink or
blue favors, strewed the room ; these contained full-trimmed
chemises with embroidered sleeves, pocket-handkerchiefs, petti-
coats, morning-gowns, dressing-gowns of Indian muslin, night-
dresses, nightcaps, morning-caps of all colors and all forms ;
the whole of these articles were embroidered, and trimmed with
Mechlin lace or English point. Another portmanteau of equal
size, of green silk embroidered in orange chenille, contained my
numerous dresses, all worthy in fashion and taste to vie with
the habiliments already described.

This was an hour of magic for a girl of sixteen. Time passes
away ; mature years have already arrived ; old age will follow ;
but never can the remembrance of my mother as she now ap-
peared be effaced from my mind. How eagerly did she watch
my eyes ; and when the peculiar elegance and good taste of any
article of her own choice elicited my admiring exclamations,
how did her fine black eyes sparkle, and her smiling rosy lips
display the pearls they enclosed ! Who can describe a mother's
joy on such an occasion, or the effect it produces on the heart
of an affectionate daughter ! Taking my head between her two
hands, and kissing my eyes, my ears, my cheeks, my hair, she
threw herself on a settee, saying, " Come, now, mathia mou,^
seek something else that will please you."

» Greek words, meaning light of my which my mother habitually used to-
cyes; a most caressing expression, ward me.

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 433

The trousseau being fully examined, the corhcillc ^"^ next de-
manded inspection. At this time the custom of giving a basket
or case for the articles of the corheille was not yet exploded ;
fifty or sixty louis were spent upon a species of basket covered
with rich silk or velvet, and highly ornamented, which stood for
six or twelve months on the dressing-table of the bride, till,
becoming tarnished and worn, it was no longer ornamental,
and was consigned to the lumber-room, to be eaten by the rats
in spite of its finery. Now they do things with more sense, and
lay out the money upon a valuable chest of longer duration.
Mine, then, was an immensely large vase, covered with green
and white velvet, richly embroidered with gold. Its foot was of
gilded bronze ; its cover of embroidered velvet, surmounted by
a pineapple of black velvet, transfixed by an arrow, from which
were suspended on each side a crown, the one of olives, the
other of laurel, both cut in bronzed gold.

This corbeille contained Cashmere shawls, veils of English
point, gown trimmings of blond and Brussels point, dresses
of white blond and black lace; pieces of Indian muslin and
of Turkish velvet which the general had brought from Egypt ;
ball-dresses for a bride ; my presentation dress, and Indian mus-
lin dresses embroidered in silver lama. Besides all these, there
were flowers bought of Madame ■ Roux, of Lyons ; ribbons of
all sizes and colors; bags (or as we now say, reticules), which
were then all the fashion, one of them of English point ; gloves,
fans, and essences. At each side of the corheille was a " sul-
tan," or scented bag.

The first contained all the implements of the toilet in gold
enamelled black; the apparatus of the work-table — thimble,
scissors, needle-case, bodkin, etc., all in gold, set with fine
pearls. The other " sultan " contained the jewel casket, and
an opera-glass of mother-of-pearl and gold set with two rows
of diamonds. The casket contained settings for an entire suite
of ornaments without the stone ; six ears of golden corn and
a comb (which, on account of the immense quantity of my
hair, was as large as those which are now worn), set with dia-
monds and pearls ; a square medallion set with large pearls,
containing a portrait of General Junot by Isabey, for the resem-

^o Mademoiselle L'Olive, being dress- beille, under the instructions of Ma-
maker to Madame Bonaparte, had been dame Murat.
charged by Junot to prepare the cor-

434 JUNOT

blance of which the artist's name will vouch, but of a size more
fit to be affixed to the wall of a gallery than to be suspended
from the neck ; but this was the fashion of the day, and Ma-
dame Murat had one of her husband, also painted by Isabey,
and even larger than mine. The casket contained also a number
of superb topazes brought from Eg}^pt, of an incredible size,
oriental corals of extraordinary thickness, which I have since
had engraved in relief at Florence by M. Hamelin, and several
antique cameos ; all these were unset. The bridal purse of gold
links, connected together by delicate little stars of green enamel,
the clasp also enamelled green, contained too weighty a sum of
money had it not consisted of bank-notes/ except about fifty
louis in pretty little sequins of Venice.

All these elegant presents had been completed under the
direction of Madame Murat, and did infinite honor to her taste.
At this time such a corheille was a treasure of great rarity;
for the first time since the Revolution it had reappeared at the
marriage of Mademoiselle de Doudeauville with M. Pierre de
Rastignac. Madame Murat's marriage followed after a consid-
erable interval, and her corheille was very rich ; but as mine
took place nearly a year later, not only was the corheille more
beautiful, but it was composed with more conformity to ancient
customs, and in a more refined taste. After this time the cor-
heille and trousseau again became common, but were copies,
not models, like Madame Murat's and mine.

But of all these beautiful gifts, nothing delighted me so much
as Junot's affecting attention to my mother. She longed for a
Cashmere shawl, but would never purchase one, because she
said she could not afford one so good as she wished for ; and I
had determined that my wedding gift to her should be a red one,
because that was the color she preferred, but I had never whis-
pered my intentions. However, together with my corheille
came a small basket covered with white gros de Naples, em-
broidered in silks with my mother's cipher on the draperies,
from which the first thing that presented itself was a superb
scarlet Cashmere shawl. The basket contained, besides, a purse
like mine, except that the enamel was a deep blue, and within
it, instead of money, was a topaz of a perfect oval round, the

' The Bank of France was established two purses were made by Foncier, a
in the month of February, 1800: I think very celebrated jeweller at that period,
it opened the following month. The

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 435

size of a small apricot ; gloves, ribbons, and two magnificent
fans. I cannot describe how I felt this amiable attention.
When I thanked the general for it with an effusion of heart
which I rather repressed than exaggerated, he replied, " I fore-
saw what you now express ; and if I had not loved her who is
about to become my mother with filial tenderness, I should have
done what I have for the pleasure I enjoy at this moment."

On the thirtieth of October, at nine in the morning, every-
thing was in motion in our small house of the Rue de Sainte
Croix, and earlier still in the Hotel Rue de Verneuil. At day-
break I had left home, accompanied by Sister Rosalie (who on
hearing of my approaching marriage had quitted her retreat
to be with me), to go to my confessor : this ought to have been
done on the eve of my wedding. Having made my confession,
I requested the venerable abbe, my spiritual father, to perform
the religious ceremony of my marriage in the Church of the
Capuchins - at a quarter past twelve at night ; and great was
my astonishment at receiving a dry and peremptory refusal.

" What reason," said he emphatically, " can General Junot
possibly have for refusing to make you his wife in the light of
the sun? What does he fear? Ridicule! No! he has too
much good sense for that. There must be some cause of objec-
tion unknown to us." I turned pale ; but the abbe, in spite of
all Sister Rosalie's entreaties, proceeded : " Who shall satisfy
me, who am the priest required to bless this marriage, that he
is not already the husband of another ? "

" Monsieur TAbbe ! Monsieur I'Abbe ! " said Rosalie in a
voice of lively reproach, of which I should not have conceived
the good girl capable toward any ecclesiastic — " Monsieur
I'Abbe, for heaven's sake forbear ! What are you doing ? "
" My duty ! " replied he in a stern voice ; " I perform that duty
which nature and the laws impose upon the guardians of this
voung girl, and which they seem to have cast upon Providence,
i then, as the minister of God, of that same Providence, am
bound to watch over the interest of the fatherless orphan."

" Monsieur I'Abbe," said I, rising to go, " my gratitude to
you is the same as if your charitable friendship had saved me
from a great danger; but it is my duty to remind you that,
whatever danger may threaten me, I have a support, a protect-

2 Now the Church of Saint Louis, in the Rue de Sainte Croix.

436 JUNOT

or, a father; and that M, de Permon, my brother, who unites
all those titles, enlightened at once by his tenderness for me and
his acute penetration, is capable of judging whether I am de-
ceived by a man whose reputation for honor and loyalty stands
so high. I have already explained to you, sir, the reason why
he wishes to receive the nuptial benediction at night."

" The reason is injurious to you," said the abbe, with in-
creasing anger. " Why should the commandant of Paris fear
to show himself in uniform in one of the churches which his
general has just reopened? He would not manifest the same
repugnance to exhibit himself to-morrow in the Temple of Vic-
tory, now called Sulpice, instead of Saint Sulpice." (This was,
in fact, the denomination now given to Saint Sulpice, and a
fete was at this very time announced to be held in the Temple
of Victory (Sulpice), in commemoration of our ancestors.)

" Young lady," continued the good man, " do not assume
that air of displeasure ; it is neither becoming your situation nor
mine. Rather thank me for the solicitude I feel for my spiritual
child, for such you are, my daughter; and it grieves me to
think that you may be deceived. Why should your civil mar-
riage take place in the Faubourg Saint Antoine ? Why are the
banns not published at the church? Why is a nocturnal cele-
bration demanded? The ceremony before the mayor will take
place by day ; but where ? at the extremity of Paris ! in an
obscure quarter, where, truly, a former Madame Junot is not
very likely to suspect that a successor is being installed in her
rights ; all this has an ambiguous appearance, and I shall not
make myself a party to its execution."

It was equally vain to reason or petition ; the Abbe Lusthier
turned a deaf ear to all I could say, and I was obliged to depart
without the consolation of knowing that the good father would
sanction my marriage with his presence ; his blessing he gave
me, and prayed that his presentiments might prove unfounded.

I pressed upon him at my departure a purse containing a
handsome sum of money, which my brother had given me for
that purpose. I knew that the abbe was very poor, and almost
destitute of necessaries ; I saw in the garret where he lived nei-
ther fire nor wood, and the weather was already becoming
cold ; he, however, resisted the ofifer repeatedly, and even with
annoyance. I would not listen to the refusal, but left the purse,

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 437

saying that what he could spare from his own comforts he
might distribute as my almoner.

Junot never heard of this scene till it was related to him
some years afterward, with the greatest frankness, by the Abbe
Lusthier himself, on occasion of his calling to request my hus-
band to obtain for him the living of Virginie, a little village
near Bievre. " I hope your fears on my account are now at
an end," said Junot, smiling, and offering his hand to him. " I
assure you, you have no occasion to retain any.; and to prove it
I shall request Citizen Portalis to appoint you to a different
benefice from the one you have solicited. I know from my wife
that your fortune does not correspond either with your merit or
your charity, and it is my duty, if possible, to repair the injus-
tice of fate ; and I hope, at the same time," added he, laughing,
" to prove that I am innocent ; for I would not silence by an
obligation any person who is entitled to reproach me."

The Abbe Lusthier not only accepted General Junot's offers,
but attached himself unreservedly to him, Junot obtained for
him an excellent living in the diocese of my uncle, the Bishop
of IVIetz, and he was some time afterward appointed grand vicar
to his friend the Abbe Bernier, Bishop of Orleans.

But to recur to the interesting period from which this episode
has led me. On my return home I related all that had passed,
which excited my mother's displeasure. " I hope," said she,
" you did not leave him the purse." I looked at her instead of
answering. On meeting my eyes she laughed, half angrily
and half in jest, and said, " So, I am a simpleton ! And you
did leave him the purse, did you not?" "Certainly," I re-
plied, embracing her. " And you know very well that each
piece of silver which we have given the Abbe Lusthier will
acquire the value of gold in his hands."

Albert then went out to find the cure of the Church of the
Capuchins, gave him the necessary instructions, and received
his promise to be ready at five minutes past midnight.

At nine o'clock in the morning my toilet was commenced in
which I was to appear before the mayor. I wore an Indian
muslin gown, with a train, high body and long sleeves that
buttoned at the wrist, and which were then called omadis; the
whole was trimmed with magnificent point lace. My cap, made
by Mademoiselle Despaux, was of Brussels point, crowned with

438 JUNOT

a wreath of orange flowers, from which descended to my feet a
veil of fine English point, large enough to envelop my person.
This costume, which was adopted by all young brides, differing
only according to the degree of wealth of the parties, was in
my opinion much more elegant than the present bridal fashion.

I do not think that it is prejudice for the past which makes
me prefer my own wedding-dress — that profusion of rich lace,
so fine and so delicate that it resembled a vapory network, shad-
ing my countenance and playing with the curls of my hair ;
those undulating folds of my robe, which fell round my person
with the inimitable grace and supple ease of the superb tissues
of India ; that long veil, which in part covered the form without
concealing it — to the robe of tulle of our modern brides, made
in the fashion of a ball-dress, the shoulders and bosom uncov-
ered, and the petticoat short enough to permit everyone to
judge not only of the delicacy of the little foot, but of the shape
of the ankle and leg,^ while the head, dressed as for a ball, is
scarcely covered by a veil of stiff and massy tulle, the folds of
which fall without ease or grace around the lengthened waist
and shortened petticoat of the young bride ; no, this is not ele-
gance.

At eleven o'clock the general arrived, with the rest of his
family. His mother had preceded him by half an hour. This
excellent woman had seen me but twice ; but she had made a
correct estimate of the mutual tenderness which subsisted be-
tween my mother and myself. Her perfect goodness of heart
and excellent judgment had inspired the thought of placing
herself between us at the moment of a separation which she
foresaw would be so painful. Alas ! she knew at that moment
better than I did what were my poor mother's feelings ; and I
was far from understanding the full force of the words which,
with tears that could not be restrained, she addressed to her, " I
will supply your place to her ! "

Andoche brought with him his father, his brother, Madame
Junot, his sister-in-law ; Madame Maldan, his youngest sister ;
and two of his aides-de-camp, of whom General Lallemand,

' Prince Talleyrand began life by say- wore remarkably short petticoats in

ing what are called " witty things." Be- order to show the delicacy of her feet

ing one day present at the Tuileries, and ankle. Someone present asked Tal-

when several ladies were to take an oath leyrand what he thought of the tout

of fidelity to the Emperor on their new ensemble. " I think." said the witty

appointments, he particularly noticed minister, "that her dress is too short

the beautiful Madame de Marmier, who to take an oath of fidelity."

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 439

then a captain, has rendered his name celebrated by the honor
and fidehty of his conduct. He was attached to the staff of
General Junot in Egypt, where he served in the fine regiment
of chasseurs of the general-in-chief ; Junot had a high esteem
for him.

The other officer was M. Bardin, son of an estimable painter,
and himself a very worthy man. He had wit, wrote pretty
verses with ease, drew admirably, and had on this occasion laid
all his talents under contribution for the bridegroom's service.
These two gentlemen were the general's witnesses ; mine were
the Comte de Villemanzy, peer of France, an intimate friend
of my father, and M. Lequien de Bois-Cressy ; M. Brunetiere,
who had been my guardian, now acted as my father, together
with Albert and my uncle. Prince Demetrius Comnenus, who
had arrived two days previously from Munich.

When we set out for the Rue de Jouy, the Rue de Sainte
Croix near our house was filled with people, mostly strangers
in our quarter ; and among them nearly all the principal Mar-
chandes de la Halle. Junot was extremely considerate to the
people of Paris, and was very popular with them ; and I am
convinced that in a commotion the mere sight of him would
have restored tranquillity ; he was very open-handed to them,
giving alms very freely. He could, moreover, speak the lan-
guage of the Dames de la Halle admirably, when any occasion
arose.

Four of the group requested permission to pay their com-
pliments to me. It was granted, and they entered the salon
carrying each a bouquet, certainly larger than myself, and com-
posed of the finest and rarest flowers, the price of which was
greatly enhanced by the lateness of the season. They offered
them to me with no other phrase than the following : " Mam'-
selle, you are about to become the wife of our commandant,
and we are glad of it, because you are said to be kind and good.
Will you permit us? " And the women embraced me heartily.

Junot ordered some refreshments for all those who had been
good enough, he said, to remember him on the happiest day
of his life. We set out for the municipality amid their loud
acclamations and the repeated cries of " Long live the bride
and bridegroom ! "

On arriving at the mayoralty of the Rue de Jouy, Faubourg

440 JUNOT

Saint Antoine, where it was Junot's whim to be married — not,
as the Abbe Lusthier supposed, to be less in sight, for in this
case he would have contrived his matters very ill, but to gratify
a friend — we were received and married by M. Duquesnoy,
mayor of this arrondissement. He spared us a long discourse,
and only uttered a few well-chosen words, which I have never
forgotten.

We returned to my mother's, and the day passed off much
as all similar days do. When the hour of midnight struck we
crossed over to the church, and at one by the clock of the Corps
Legislatif I entered the Hotel de Montesquieu to the sound of
the most harmonious music.

All who had been connected with Junot in the Army of Italy
or the Army of Egypt had special claims upon his friendship,
and he was desirous of giving a dinner the day after his mar-
riage to eight or ten of his brethren-in-arms. My mother, who
was always anxious to make him adopt what she called stylish
habits, vainly remonstrated about this defiance of etiquette, and
said that it would resemble a journeyman carpenter giving his
companions a treat on his wedding holiday. Junot was firm,
and my mother's only resource was to invite his friends herself.

" But will they come to me without an introduction ? " she
inquired. Junot assured her that they would, and invitations
were sent to Bessieres, Lannes, Eugene Beauharnais, Rapp, and
some others. Some of Junot's friends, Beillard, Desgenettes,
etc., were not yet returned from Egypt ; but all those who were
in Paris met at my mother's table.

This dinner was extremely curious because it was a reunion
of all parties. My mother's friends sat down beside the whole
family of Bonaparte, and the new guests made a very inter-
esting accession to the party. At this time I knew none of the
above-mentioned friends of Junot; I had distinguished their
names amid the acclamations of the people, when news of some
fresh triumphs arrived ; but I was acquainted with no generals
except Moreau, Macdonald, and Beurnonville, whom we had
frequently met at Madame Leclerc's. It afforded me then great
satisfaction to be introduced to those men who had seconded
Bonaparte, and had been to him at once good comrades and
good laborers in the erection of that edifice of glory under which
France now found an asylum from her distractions.

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 441

General Lannes was also lately married. He had been more
rapid than Junot, and had been for three weeks the husband of
Mademoiselle Louise Gheneuc, a young person of exquisite
beauty. Lannes was then twenty-eight years of age, five feet
five or six inches high, slender and elegant, his feet, legs, and
hands being remarkable for their symmetry. His face was not
handsome, but it was expressive; and when his voice uttered
one of those heroic thoughts which had acquired for him the
appellation of the Roland of the army, " His eyes," said Junot,
" which now appear so small, become immense, and dart flashes
of lightning."

Junot told me that he looked upon Lannes as, without excep-
tion, the bravest man of the army, because his courage, invari-
ably the same, neither received accession nor suffered diminu-
tion from any of those incidents which usually influence mili-
tary men. The same coolness with which he re-entered his tent
he carried into the midst of the battle, the hottest fire, and the
most difficult emergencies. To this invaluable quality Junot
considered him to add the most rapid coup d'ccil and concep-
tion, and the most accurate judgment, of any person he had
ever met with, except the First Consul. He was beside ami-
able, faithful in friendship, and a good patriot ; he possessed a
heart truly French — a heart of the best days of the glorious
republic.

One curious trait in his character was the obstinacy with
which he refused to have his hair cut short. In vain the First
Consul begged, entreated him to cut it off; he still retained a
short and thick queue, full of powder and pomatum. This
whim nearly embroiled him with Junot, notwithstanding their
friendship, on account of the latter having cropped the hair of
the famous division of Arras, and the fashion becoming gen-
eral in consequence throughout the whole army.

Duroc came next to Lannes in Junot's estimation, and was a
year younger ; his person was about the same stature, but with
a superiority of manner and figure; his hair was black; his
nose, chin, and cheeks were too round to admit of his features
being at all striking, which even cast a shade of indecision over
his countenance ; his eyes were large and black, but set so high
in his head that they did not harmonize with his smile or any
other expression, from which singular effect those who were

442 JUNOT

not partial to him averred that he was not frank ; but I, who
was his intimate friend, who knew his character perhaps better
than any other person, can affirm that it was all openness and
goodness.

Our friendship, which commenced in i8oi, and closed only
with his life, was almost that of a brother and sister. Peculiar
circumstances made me his confidante, at first against his will,
but afterward with his entire acquiescence, in a case which in-
fluenced the happiness of his life, and which turned out unfor-
tunate. Numerous letters from him, which I still possess, writ-
ten from all countries, certify that it was long ere he recovered
his equanimity, and still longer before he could pardon those
who, with one stroke, had given a mortal wound to his moral
and political existence.

Bonaparte, who was a good judge of men, distinguished him
from his companions, and sent him to execute difficult missions
in foreign courts ; this showed that he understood Duroc's
capabilities. I have a letter of his, dated from St. Petersburg
in 1802, in which he mentions the too flattering estimation he
was there held in ; the Emperor Alexander, when he visited me
in 1814, spoke of many persons whom Napeoleon had sent to
him, and his opinion of Duroc was still the same as it had been
described twelve years before.

Bessieres, at that time a colonel, was among Junot's intimate
friends. I always deplored the cessation of this intimacy, for
the most futile and ridiculous cause imaginable ; and being fre-
quently called upon to judge between them, I must confess that
I could not always think Junot in the right. Bessieres, who
was about the same age, was a stouter man than Lannes ; like
him, he was from the South, as the accent of both sufficiently
testified ; and like him he had a mania for powder, but with a
striking difiference in the cut of his hair — a small lock at each
side projected like little dogs' ears, and his long and thin Prus-
sian queue supplied the place of the Cadogan of Lannes. He
had good teeth, a slight cast in the eye, but not to a disagreeable
extent ; and a rather prepossessing address. He was then colo-
nel of the Guides — that is to say, of the Chasseurs a cheval of
the Consular Guard — jointly with Eugene Beauharnais.

Eugene was still but a child ; but already gave promise of
being, what he afterward became, a most charming and amiable

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 443

young man. With the exception of his teeth, which, hke his
mother's, were frightful, his person was perfectly attractive
and elegant. Frankness and hilarity pervaded all his actions ;
he laughed like a child, but never in bad taste. He was good-
natured, gracious, polite, without being obsequious, and a mimic
without being impertinent, which is a rare talent.

He performed well in comedy, sang a good song, and danced
like his father, who had derived a surname from his excellence
in this art ; in short, he was a truly agreeable young man. He
made a conquest of my mother, whom he wished to please, and
completely succeeded. Beauharnais, the father, who was called
the beau danseur, though well born, was not of a rank to ride
in the King's carriages ; and Josephine, his wife, was never
presented. He alone was invited on account of his dancing,
and frequently had the honor of being the Queen's partner.

Rapp was then what he continued to be twenty years later,
with the exception of a few additional wounds. It is true he
had in vain passed through all the forms of courts, French and
foreign, but with manners the most rough, ungraceful, and
awkward that ever belonged to a man of the world. But if in
courts he never lost his rude, uncultivated exterior, so also he
preserved pure and intact a disinterested soul and virtuous
heart. Rapp was always esteemed and loved, because he de-
served to be so.

Berthier was one of Junot's friends with whom I had the
greatest desire to become acquainted. I had seen him fre-
quently at Madame Visconti's ; he was small and ill-shaped,
without being deformed ; his head was too large for his body ;
his hair, neither light nor dark, was rather frizzed than curled ;
his forehead, eyes, nose, and chin, each in the proper place,
were, however, by no means handsome in the aggregate. His
hands, naturally ugly, became frightful by a habit of biting his
nails ; add to this, that he stammered much in speaking, and
that if he did not make grimaces, the agitation of his features
was so rapid as to occasion some amusement to those who wit-
nessed it. He was the plainest of the three brothers ; Csesar
was better looking than he, and Leopold still better than Csesar.
Madame O'Ogeranville, their sister, resembled mostly Alexan-
der. Berthier not only loved Napoleon, but he was greatly
attached to several of his brother officers ; and often braved the

444 JUNOT

ill-humor of the Emperor, in speaking to him of such of his
friends as had committed faults. Berthier was good in every
acceptation of the word,

" The best and dearest of my friends," said Junot, after hav-
ing presented his comrades separately to me, " is still in Italy ;
Marmont will soon return with his wife, to whom I shall intro-
duce you, and whose friendship I hope you will obtain, giving
yours in return ; he is a brother to me."

M. de Lavalette, another of my mother's guests on that day,
was no bad representation of Bacchus : a lady might have been
proud of his pretty little white hand and pink well-turned nails ;
his two little eyes, and immoderately little nose, placed in the
midst of a fat pair of cheeks, gave to his countenance a truly
comic expression, in aid of which came the extraordinary ar-
rangement of his head ; not the locks only, but the individual
hairs might be counted, and they received distinguishing names
from the wits of the staff — as " the invincible," " the redoubt-
able," " the courageous " ; and one in particular, which defied
the discipline of the comb or the hand, and pertinaciously stood
upright, they called " the indomitable."

Notwithstanding this personal appearance, and an address
almost burlesque, Lavalette knew how to impose respect, and
never suffered merriment to take unwarranted liberties with
him. He had sense and wit; had seen much and retained
much ; and related multitudes of anecdotes with remarkable
grace, resulting from a cast of ideas at once quiet, brilliant, and
acute. M. de Lavalette was not, however, a superior man ; the
horrible and infamous prosecution of which he was the object
has placed him on an eminence which he would never otherwise
have attained; but he had the essential qualities of a good
father, a good husband, and a faithful friend.

He married, a few days before his departure for Egypt,
Mademoiselle Emilie de Beauharnais, daughter of the Marquis
de Beauharnais, brother-in-law of Madame Bonaparte. This
young lady — of extreme beauty, gentle, and, thanks to Madame
Bonaparte, her aunt, very well educated — had considerable dif-
ficulty in marrying, on account of the position of her parents.
Her father obtained a divorce from his wife that he might
marry a German canoness; and her mother married at the
same time a negro. The poor abandoned child was fortunate

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 445

in havinfj attracted the affections of such a man as Lavalette,
which she warmly returned.

Her husband, however, had not reached Egypt before the
bride took the small-pox, and, scarcely escaping with her life,
lost her beauty. She was in despair, and though by degrees the
marks of the pustules became less evident ; though her figure
was still fine, her complexion dazzling, her teetli good, and her
countenance pleasing, she could not reconcile herself to the
change of which both before and after his return she felt con-
scious that her husband must be sensible. The delicacy of his
conduct never gave her reason for a moment to suppose that
his attachment was in any way diminished ; but her sighs and
tears, her profound melancholy, and weariness of life, showed
that she could not overcome her own apprehensions ; the excel-
lent Lavalette had but one wish, and that was that his wife
should be happy.

Lucien, minister of the interior, could not be at my wedding
dinner, but Madame Murat made an effort to join us. Ma-
dame Leclerc was in the height of her beauty. Madame Bac-
ciochi was dressed on the occasion with a degree of eccentricity
which even now is fresh to my mind. She had presided in the
morning over a female literary society ; and proposing to estab-
lish a peculiar costume for the associates, she considered the
readiest way to effect her purpose was to have a pattern made
and appear in it herself, and in this new dress she afterward
came to my mother; such a medley of the Jewish, Roman, Mid-
dle Age, and modern Greek costumes — of everything, in short,
except French good taste — was, I think, never seen.

To see Madame Bacciochi thus attired was not surprising,
because we were accustomed to her singularities ; but it was
impossible to resist the ludicrous impression she created by de-
claring her intention of offering such a dress to the adoption of
all good Christians.

M. de Caulaincourt had known Rapp at the Tuileries, and it
was not without surprise that he recognized him in our society.
Approaching me he asked, in an undertone, whether " that
great boy " (pointing out Rapp) had paid his visit to my
mother. I answered in the negative. " Then at least he has
left his card ? " " No." " But, my dear child, it is not pos-
sible; you must have been so absorbed in admiration of your

446 JUNOT

corhcille as not to have seen him. It is not credible that a man
should come and sit down in the house of a woman of good
society, and eat at her table, without having first been intro-
duced, and paid his respects to her."

As he was proceeding in a very animated tone, Rapp crept
softly behind him, then hallooed into his ear : " What are you
talking of, dear papa ? Please to move out of my way ; on a
wedding day, you know, the old must give way to the young."
And so saying, he threw his arms round the old gentleman's
waist, lifted him gently from the ground, and set him down at
a little distance.

M. de Caulaincourt's good-nature made him generally be-
loved, but under it was concealed a strength of character known
only to those who were much in his society ; and such a circum-
stance as the present was calculated to show him off as a high-
bred French gentleman in the true acceptation of the word.
Looking at Rapp with an expression of dignified severity, he
said:

" Colonel, you and I are neither old enough nor young enough
for such play." Then bowing coldly to him, he offered me hi's
arm, saying : " Will you come and see what is passing in the
next room ? "

The worthy man was agitated. I led him through my moth-
er's room, which was filled with company, and made him sit
down in mine, which my mother had converted into a second
boudoir. Junot was surprised soon after to find me consoling
my old friend, to whom I was endeavoring to represent that the
matter did not deserve the serious turn he was disposed to give
it. I repeated the whole to Junot, who, in spite of the old
gentleman's opposition — for M. de Caulaincourt would by no
means permit that he should seek apologies for him — went to
remonstrate with Rapp, and in five minutes brought him to us,
ready to fall on his knees to entreat pardon for the brutalities
which Junot had assured him he had committed. " And Junot
tells me also," he added, turning to me, " that I have failed in
respect to you in acting so rudely in your presence. I might,
however, absolutely refuse to beg pardon, because apologies are
only necessary when one has done wrong intentionally, and
certainly I did not intend to ofTend."

It was impossible to forbear laughing at this quaint excuse,

PARIS DURING THE CONSULATE 447

and M. de Caulaincourt, frankly holding out his hand, said to
him : " You are a good fellow, and I shall be happy to become
one of your friends." Rapp pressed the old gentleman's hand
with a very pretty little hand of his own, not at all consistent
with his massive figure ; and here ended an affair from which
my friend's high feelings of honor had threatened nothing less
than a duel, except that my mother was so offended with Rapp
that she scarce ever spoke politely to him afterward.

M. de Caulaincourt, dining at our house some days afterward,
requested an introduction to Lannes, who, of all the republican
generals, was the one who pleased him best. I passed my arm
through his, and led him to the other end of the salon, where
Lannes was conversing with Junot. " General," said I, " per-
mit me to present to you M. de Caulaincourt, an ancient and
distinguished general officer, who wishes to be acquainted with
you."

The pleasing countenance of Lannes was immediately lighted
up with a cordial smile, and, shaking him by the hand, he said :
" Ah, my old friend ! I like the ancients ; there is always some-
thing to be learned from them. To what branch of the service
did you belong? Were you biped or quadruped? Or — ah,
Diahle! I believe you are at present attached to the Royal
Phlegmatics." * The fact was that, astonished at Lannes's re-
ception, and the rolling artillery which at that time made a
copious part of his vocabulary, M. de Caulaincourt had been
seized with a severe fit of coughing which he could not stifle.

"Ah, what is the matter?" said the general, patting him
upon the back as we do a choking child. " Why, this is an in-
firmity that requires reform, Junot ; you must make Lassalle
enrol him." Lassalle then commanded the veterans of the
garrison of Paris, but was no relation to the famous general of
the same name. The good old gentleman scarcely knew whether
to laugh or to be angry.

Meanwhile Junot wh'fs^eteji a* wdrdj |^*.tlie.*§'eneral, who,
suddenly changing hi^ -f ofwf, eaid* "witht dn** elxpf dssion almost

respectful: " What, .ane. y.ojJ, the. .f.a,ther.o/.tV?^? *^vo brave
young men, one of whbmi iio.t.w5:hsfanSing- his'^^arly age, is
colonel of a regiment o^ carahineers? * Then" you must be brave

• »•••••, • f, .,

*The expression " royal-pitflite "; isj ••. cas* pos'sAly.* iTe fendered in our Ian-
much more ridiculous in Frenci«tVian it.' gli^ge.,* **,**, *

448 JUNOT

yourself! You have educated them for the country, and you
have not, like too many of your class, sold them to foreigners.
You must be a good man ; I must embrace you." And so say-
ing, he threw his arms round him, and embraced him heartily.

We left the two comrades to resume the conversation we had
interrupted, and went to rejoin my mother in an adjoining
salon. " How do you like General Lannes ? " said I. " Oh !
very well, very well. But I expected quite a different kind of
man : for example, he swears like a galley-slave ; it makes one
tremble. To be sure, he may be a good soldier and a brave man
for all that." " And what more could you expect in General
Lannes than a soldier distinguished by his valor and his skill
in beating the enemy ? " " Why, my dear child, what could
I think ? It was the fashion of dressing his hair that deceived
me. I thought that if a man knew how to dress himself he
must have something of the manners of other times ; how could
I think otherwise ? "

This naive confession stupefied me. " Is it possible, then,"
said I, " that you have judged a man only by his queue? You
were very unfortunate in not having encountered General Au-
gereau, in whom you would have found yourself much more
mistaken." At this moment a great man passed us, and saluted
me with a bow of respect which is only to be met with in well-
brought-up persons. " And who is that ? " said M. de Cau-
laincourt ; " he is powdered too, I think." " It is Colonel Bes-
sieres ; shall I introduce him to you, papa ? " " No, no," said
he hastily ; " 1 have had enough of introductions for to-day 1 "

It was in vain I assured him that Bessieres left his bad lan-
guage in the barracks; he felt no inclination for the experi-
ment; but when some time afterward he met General Auge-
reau he remembered my words, and had an opportunity of
proving their truth. That general surpassed even himself in
swearing, and my poor friend, in relating the conversation he
had had with, Gen^r<tl,;Eruct) dot, as he, called him, could not
find words to expre^Si the. astonishment he felt at the language
he had heard.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES

This book is due on the date indicated below, or at the
expiration of a definite period after the date of borrowing, as
provided by the library rules or by special arrangement with
the Librarian in charge.

DATE BORROWED

DATE DUE

DATE BORROWED

DATE DUE

""^G V ,,',,

C2a (449)M50

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES

0315022072

feG75'<^'+(^

^'B 1 5 1933

■'" . !i

Internet Archive Audio

Featured

Top

Images

Featured

Top

Software

Featured

Top

Texts

Featured

Top

Video

Featured

Top

Mobile Apps

Browser Extensions

Archive-It Subscription

Save Page Now

Full text of "Classic memoirs"

See other formats